


Soulless

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Blood, Bondage, Bottom Sherlock, Collar, Cuffs, Diaper, Force-Feeding, Gags, Humiliation, M/M, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Scars, Sexual Slavery, Starving, Top John, Torture, Unrequited Love, Wands, Welts, catheter, plug, ropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21987394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Sherlock is a sub and he lives with John who is his dom. John is acting very sadistic but Sherlock simply takes it all because he loves him and is afraid of being left alone again. But some day he has reached his limits, too.
Relationships: James Moriarty/Sebastian Moran, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story featuring a TopJohn. This is also a proper warning at the beginning. This story will have an ending, some of you won't like. This time I won't change it. This time this is what it is.
> 
> Plus, there might be some mistakes using medical vocabulary in here. If someone likes to correct, please tell me! Thanks!

„Sherlock! Right now!“ John’s voice bellowed through the flat. He sounded very, very angry.  
“Coming, Sir!” Sherlock called out and dashed out of the bath. He just wore a towel around his slim waist and his hair was still damp. He hurried up to John and at once dropped down on his bony knees. His eyes were on the hardwood and his hands went up to get neatly folded on his nape.  
“What did I say about the dishwasher?” John asked dangerously quiet. Sherlock swallowed and tried to remember. Then it hit him.  
“You said not to stuff it to the brim because it will break if I do so.” His voice was very small.  
“So what do you think just happened?” John asked with his arms akimbo.  
“It broke?” Sherlock replied. He also started to sweat and it was obvious. John’s eyes slanted.  
“Yes, you idiot, it broke!” He shook his head and moved up close. The move made Sherlock twitch and sweat openly broke out all over his body. John smirked.  
“You deserve a severe punishment because you broke the dishwasher. And of course you will be hand-washing everything until we will be able to buy a new one. So what do you think would be appropriate for destroying an important appliance of our household?”  
“I am very sorry it broke. I didn’t mean to break it.” Sherlock started to cry and looked up at John. Their eyes met.  
“Eyes down, bitch!” He bellowed. Sherlock obeyed.  
“And where is the respect you are supposed to show me?” He kept shouting and Sherlock hunched his shoulders. He was terribly afraid.  
“Forgive me, Sir. Please? I didn’t mean to …” He choked on his tears when John interrupted him.  
“I might forgive you after you have accepted and taken your punishment as the perfect slut that you are. Or should be anyway. I don’t know yet how long or how I will punish you.” He started to circle Sherlock and enjoyed the smell of fear and anxiety.  
“Why are you wearing a towel anyway? Get rid of it right now!” Again he yelled the words and Sherlock ripped it off and threw it to the side.   
John cleared his throat. He didn’t need to do more.  
“I am sorry, Sir.” Sherlock reached for the towel and his hands were shaking. He neatly folded it and placed it on the hardwood by his side. Afterwards his hands got folded on his nape again.  
“Much better.” John nodded his approval while still looking at the kneeling man.  
“Let’s get it over with right away, shall we?” He grinned fisting his dominant left into Sherlock’s curls.  
“Listen to me, bitch. You will crawl into the bedroom and retrieve your collar. Put it between your teeth and come back with the box. Stay on your knees but don’t shove the box over the hardwood.”  
“Yes, Sir!” Sherlock quickly crawled towards the bedroom and pushed the door open with his head. He knew better by now. He pulled the collar off the nightstand and held it tight between his teeth. But not too tight because John didn’t like the imprints of his teeth on the leather.  
Next he crawled over to their cupboard and retrieved the box. He closed the door again because John hated open doors. He breathed several times and only then lifted the box off the floor. He moved back towards John and his punishment and it was rather arduous.  
He carefully placed the box by John’s feet and resumed his position.  
“There you are. What took you so long?” John not so gently took the collar and put it around Sherlock’s neck. He buckled it tight to constrict his breathing. He didn’t really expect an answer and Sherlock knew that.  
“In the meantime I thought about your punishment.” He tapped his foot on the hardwood and Sherlock just waited to hear his predicament.  
John crouched and opened the box. He started to rummage through everything in there and it only increased Sherlock’s fear.  
“Mission accomplished …” John thought looking over the edge of his toy-box.  
“You will behave and take it as the perfect sub that you are, won’t you?” He asked taking several metres of rope out of the box.  
“Yes, Sir.” Sherlock replied and just awaited his punishment.

***

John stood behind him and pulled his arms down.  
“Turn around and lower your head. You know what I want.” John ordered and Sherlock quickly obeyed. John took his head between his strong, muscular thighs and pressed against his neck. Sherlock’s hands found their way on his lower back all by themselves since he absolutely did know what John wanted.  
John slung the rope around his thin wrists and pulled them up. Sherlock suppressed the pain and any sound he wanted to let out. John didn’t like it except when he wanted him to scream.  
Sherlock’s wrists got tied and afterwards he pulled his arms up by slinging the rope around his elbows. Sherlock wasn’t able to lower his head to avoid the pain because John still kept pressing his thighs around his neck.  
After John was done he just pushed him chest down on the hardwood. Still Sherlock didn’t make a noise. John took more ropes and tied up his ankles, knees and thighs. A smaller length of rope was connecting ankles and wrists. A very small piece tied his toes.  
And finally he moved his long, dark hair back, knotted it and pulled his head back to his wrists. John knew why he had forbidden Sherlock to ever cut his hair again.

John was looking at his art and was very pleased with it. Sherlock’s body was strained and he soon would start cramping. John was looking forward to it. He always enjoyed it.  
“So?” John asked stepping up close so his shins almost touched Sherlock’s face. He tensed.  
“Thank you, Sir. This is what I deserve and more for destroying the dish-washer.”  
“That’s bloody right, bitch!” John replied laughing.  
He took an electric prod out of his box and started to poke Sherlock everywhere. He poked him until he groaned loudly. Then he rolled him on his side and once shocked his cock. Sherlock sobbed and bit his lower lip.  
“None of that, slut.” John screamed into his face. He shoved a huge ball-gag behind his teeth and buckled it tight. A clamp followed between his nostrils and it made him shed tears. It was wicked.  
A thinner rope was wound around his cock and testicles and led up to a d-ring on his collar. And only when John was done he took a cane and started to hit Sherlock all over his body until he was a bleeding, sobbing mess beneath him.

***

Only when Sherlock almost choked due to his clotted nose John stopped. He took off the ball-gag but instead used a spider-gag on him. He forced his head a bit higher by the rope and knelt in front of him.  
“Use your tongue like the slut you are!” John told him and Sherlock stuck his tongue out. He tried to push himself over the hardwood and made it. His tongue touched John’s thick, long and very hard prick.  
“There you are, bitch! Come on and let me feel it!” Sherlock did what he could and soon John leaked copious amounts of pre-cum. Suddenly he just caged his head in and fucked into his forced open mouth. His gum was bleeding soon, too, and saliva, blood and snot ran over his chin.  
It absolutely turned John on and he came shouting into Sherlock’s mouth roughing up his palate completely.  
Sherlock shook but swallowed without choking or coughing the cum out. He was utterly exhausted but knew John wasn’t done yet. He also knew what John wanted and he looked up.  
“That was quite nice for the beginning, slut. Really quiet nice.” John licked his lips looking over the tormented body in front of him.  
“I’ll give you a break now and brew some tea. Only for me, of course, because you don’t deserve anything. I’ll be right back!” He cheerily announced and stepped over Sherlock’s body.  
Sherlock listened to him putting the kettle on and really wished for some tea, too. Hell, he even would love to have some water but knew there wasn’t any chance.  
John came back too soon sipping his tea. Like usual he poured the first third of the very hot fluid over Sherlock’s arse. He once screamed but suppressed the rest of the noises and just closed his eyes since he couldn’t close his mouth.  
“You better be quiet, slut …” John threatened and placed the mug on the kitchen-counter. He thought about what to do next.  
“Well, I am not up to much. I’ll just fuck you and then leave you be. You still need to think of what you did.” He cut the rope connecting his ankles to his wrists and pulled him up to his knees. Sherlock’s neck was still strained because his hair was still tied to his wrists. Also his genitals were still tied up, too.  
Sherlock tried to relax but by now really couldn’t. John pushed into him without any preparation. He screamed out his pain by then and John just reached into his box. He took the tape and wound it around Sherlock’s head without taking off the spider-gag. That way he pressed it into his skin. Then he continued to fuck him.  
And when he dropped him on the hardwood he was unconscious and bleeding out of his behind, too. John looked at his body and grinned. He also plugged him and left him there. He would allow him to shower later. Much later.


	2. Daily Life

Sherlock woke and it was dark. He still was tied up and gagged. He also was still on the hardwood. He froze. The fire-place was too far away to warm him.   
He tried to lift his head to see where John was. He knew he was here. He could sense him close by.  
“Bitch, there you are!” John was by his side instantly and poked him with his foot. Sherlock just kept looking up at him.  
“Do you think it’s enough by now? Really?” John asked and crouched by his side. Sherlock tensed but didn’t make a noise.  
“Well, since I don’t want to kill you I’ll let you up now. You may thank me properly and bring me a drink afterwards.” He fumbled with the tape and rudely took it off taking some stubble with it. Sherlock cringed and the spider-gag pierced his tender skin.  
John undid the spider-gag’s buckle and took it out of his mouth. Sherlock’s jaw cracked and it hurt so much. Tears threatened to spill again but he held back.  
John also took off the ropes around his legs and the blood kept flowing back. Millions of needles pricked his white flesh and he wasn’t able to get up when being ordered by John.  
“I said get on your knees!” He yelled into Sherlock’s face who tried his best. He slowly made it half-way and then John lost his patience and he rudely pulled him up.  
“Don’t you dare passing out on me again!” He only whispered the words but Sherlock heard them very well. He did his best to stay upright until John just grabbed his collar and held him. He pulled his cock out and pressed it between his lips. Sherlock opened up wide and it hurt. John just brutally face-fucked him until Sherlock choked on both saliva and blood. And when John spilled his cum down his throat he reflexively swallowed and took it all.  
“I am rather pleased now, slut. You may bring me a drink and then have a shower. Afterwards you are free to go to sleep.” He cut off the rope around his wrists and also roughly cut through the thin rope around his genitals. The collar stayed on. John made Sherlock pick up the rope and other stuff and had him clean and disinfect everything. He watched him pack it back into the box and carry it away. And only then he marched back to his armchair in front of the fire.   
Sherlock was back on his knees and crawled towards the bar as fast as he could. Only there he stood and poured John’s drink. He brought it back and handed him a napkin, too. He just took it and didn’t acknowledge him at all.  
Sherlock was relieved of his duties for the day and he had survived his punishment. He disappeared into the bath and took a lukewarm shower first. The water burnt on his welts and wounds but he stoically bore it. He also carefully washed his hair and tried not to get any shampoo over his wounds. He had rather good practice by now so it worked pretty good.  
Sherlock also carefully shaved. He hadn't had the chance before and knew John had done this on purpose.   
He found some ointment for his body and was thankful that John still provided it. He only didn’t apply it himself anymore.  
Sherlock was exhausted and hurt a lot. And since John hadn’t told him where to sleep he went into their bedroom and climbed into bed. He hoped John wouldn’t come too soon so he would get some rest. He pulled up the blanket and rolled on his side. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. Hopefully sleep would come soon. Staying in the bed was a rare thing these days and Sherlock was thankful he hadn't been left on the hardwood or in the cage. He shuddered and his skinny limbs shook.

***

John felt very good after having punished Sherlock. His spine still tingled and the drink was fine, too. He remembered when he had first met the man. He was offered the flat-share rather quickly and John accepted just as quick. He had realised that Sherlock was submissive by nature and could be formed and trained time come.  
It had been easy because Sherlock had fallen in love with him. John did, too. Well, what you call love related with a sadistic dominant. 

***

Sherlock had wanted to please John and fell into his trap. Now he was caught in a 24/7 d/s-relationship and wasn’t able to get away anymore. He still loved John. Somehow he really did. He had never told anyone about what John did to him. He just let it happen. He only rarely was on a case with Greg or even John. He didn’t dare overstep John’s rules and was afraid of what might happen in front of everybody. So he had denied Greg for quite some time now and one day Greg had just stopped asking.  
And even his brother Mycroft wasn’t interfering anymore. He was busy with his own business.  
By now Sherlock didn’t even leave the flat anymore. He only did with John when he got dragged outside to help with the shopping or the dry-cleaning.  
Sherlock was completely helpless. He wasn’t able to leave John. He wasn’t able to escape the life he lived now. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. Lonely.

He couldn’t even cry over it.

***

John went through his bathroom-routine after having watched the late news. He was extra loud to wake Sherlock. He smirked into the mirror. He dressed into pyjamas and a tee. He knew that Sherlock was naked beneath the blanket because he didn’t allow him clothes inside the flat. Only when they had visitors he got dressed into his posh suits.  
He climbed into bed and under the blanket. He felt Sherlock being awake because he was tense and his breathing was clearly stressed. John didn’t say a single word but moved up close. His cock poked into Sherlock’s back. He pressed his body against Sherlock’s and roughed up his welts.  
Sherlock tried to relax in his hold and somehow managed when nothing else happened. He even managed to sleep for a few hours. He knew John would wake him to do the chores and make him breakfast. Hopefully he would be allowed some, too.

***

Sherlock woke because John shoved him off the bed and he crashed on the rug in front of it. He wasn’t able to suppress the groan but quickly got up on his knees. John looked at him.  
“There you are, bitch. Get up and prepare my breakfast. Perhaps I will feed you. Off you pop!” Sherlock stood.  
“Yes, Sir.” He hurried right into the kitchen since John hadn’t allowed him to use the bathroom first. He just needed to control his urges. Which he perfectly could. He had been taught the hard way.  
Now he prepared John’s breakfast who in the meantime used the bathroom. Sherlock brewed coffee and cooked scrambled eggs. He toasted the bread and got butter and jam. He sliced a tomato and several pieces of cucumber. He knew exactly what John wanted and how he wanted it. Everything was ready when John appeared.  
John sat at the kitchen-table and made him kneel by his side.   
“This is a proper job, slut. Very well done.” Once and again he even praised him and Sherlock almost cried. He very much needed John’s appreciation, his kind words.  
“Thank you, Sir.” He quietly answered and received the toast’s crust for being good.  
“Listen, bitch. I will have an early shift and leave you to your chores. I expect everything ready when I come back in the afternoon. I wrote a list for you so you know what to do. Am I clear?” He stood and looked down.  
Sherlock took the list and scanned over it. He swallowed.  
“Please, Sir, I need some money if I am supposed to do the shopping all by myself.” His words were spoken quietly but John smiled anyway.  
“You are right, of course you do since I took all your money and cards away from you. Stupid me!” He shook his head and pulled several notes from his wallet.  
“Take these, it should be enough.” Sherlock carefully took the money.  
“Thank you, Sir.” He held the notes between his fingers and waited for more orders.  
“You know what to do?” John asked standing already holding his jacket.  
“Yes, Sir. I do, Sir.” Sherlock replied and watched John taking his bag.  
“Come here and kiss me good-bye, bitch.” John told him and Sherlock crawled up to him. He kissed both his shoes and finally John left banging the door behind him.  
Sherlock just stretched out on the hardwood. But only after he had heard the door downstairs and no more steps inside the house.  
He deeply breathed several times until he got back up. He slowly slumped into the bath and again carefully showered. Afterwards he dressed and got the shopping-list. He calculated the amount he would have to spend and saw that a cab wouldn’t be possible. He would have to carry everything home. He sighed.  
He walked up to their closest Tesco and took a cart. He efficiently loaded everything from John’s list into it. But suddenly he was disturbed by a voice close to him.  
“Sherlock! What a nice surprise!” He turned around to see who was talking to him and found he stared at DI Lestrade.

Just by reflex his hands moved up to his scarf that covered his collar. It was still on since John hadn’t taken it off. And Sherlock wasn’t allowed to take it off himself. The one time he had done so, John had chained him to the wall. And he stayed there for a very long time wearing nothing else but a collar. He never tried it again.

“Greg, it’s nice to see you.” He quietly said. Greg looked a bit surprised.  
“That’s all you can think of?” He asked raising a brow. Then a huge smile broke out and he pulled Sherlock into his arms. He tightly embraced him and it hurt a lot.  
“Don’t … Please, I can’t …” Sherlock barely got the words out and Greg let go.  
“What’s wrong with you? Are you hurt? Why are you hurt?” He asked looking him over.  
“Nothing is wrong with me. I was just a galoot and stumbled. I fell and hurt my back. It’s nothing.”  
“Mate, you don’t look like nothing. Please tell me the truth. What is wrong with you? Why aren’t you returning my calls? Why don’t you detect anymore? I do miss you on my crime-scenes.” Greg looked at him and Sherlock cast his eyes.  
“I need to go, Greg.” He tried to push the cart past him but Greg stopped him.  
“No, don’t you run away. I can see that you aren’t well. You are in pain and I want to know what’s wrong. Talk to me, Sherlock!” Greg almost begged. Sherlock wasn’t so far off that he didn’t recognise the potential possibility of an escape. But the fear sat so deep, he wasn’t able to form the words into a proper sentence.  
“Just leave me be, Greg.” He whispered the words and didn’t look at him.  
“You know; I also could call John.” The words hit home and he considerably paled. Greg saw that, too, and made the connection. He was a police-officer after all and knew about abusive relationships. And he knew about them not only because he was with the Metropolitan Police but because of his very own experiences.  
Now he saw Sherlock’s pale face and trembling body. Wide eyes stared at him and his lips stood a bit apart. He started to drool and didn’t notice. Very gently Greg placed his palm on his arm.  
“Come down, Sherlock. I won’t call John, I promise. I am sorry for telling you that. I just needed to know. But you have to trust me. I do want to help you. Let me help you!” Greg insisted and Sherlock just breathed. But finally he shook his head and told him no.  
“I can’t, Greg. It’s just not possible. I can’t ever lose him. I love him …” He was desperate and Greg was feeling so helpless.  
“OK, off you go. But you should know I will be there for you. I will always help you. May I come over some day?” Greg asked and Sherlock worried his lips.  
“Don’t tell him we have met.” Sherlock replied and added after a few seconds.  
“I would like you to come over …” He smiled a weird, shy smile. It was a smile Greg had never seen before. He actually didn’t want to see it ever again on his friend’s face.  
“OK, I’ll let some days pass and just come by. Please be sensible. Don’t provoke John and try not to get hurt.” Greg said and Sherlock just nodded.  
“I always try to do so. It only sometimes doesn’t work …” And with these words he left Greg behind who could just stare at his back disappearing into the crowd by the register.  
Greg was not convinced that Sherlock was safe. He never would have thought that John was such a brutal dominant, a sadist really. Greg was a sub himself and had never felt anything when meeting him. He had hidden his true self very well. 

What was Greg supposed to do now? He worried his lips while filling his cart. Finally, he decided to call Sherlock’s brother. He was pleased with his decision and finished his shopping.

***

Sherlock quickly hurried home to finish John’s tasks. He had spent way too much time with Greg and he would have to pay for it. He stored everything away and placed the change together with the receipt on the kitchen-counter. He gathered the things for the dry-cleaner and binned the rubbish.  
He was mopping the floor when John returned home. It was still a bit wet when John entered the flat.  
“Oi, do you want me to fall and break my neck?” He shouted at him and Sherlock lowered his head.  
“No, Sir. I am sorry I am not yet done, Sir.” He replied and quickly dried the hardwood.  
“What have you done all the time, slut? Did you wank?” John asked coming up to him after he had dropped his bag.  
“I did all the tasks you wrote down, Sir. I did not wank. I really didn’t.” He dared looking at John who stared into his eyes.  
“Then you have been just lazy, slut. Well, I will think of something to remind you to be always on time.” He evilly grinned and sat down in his armchair. Sherlock quickly finished cleaning and stored everything away. He cleaned his hands properly and hurried to John’s side. He fell on his knees by his armchair and assumed his position.  
John’s hand was in his hair in a second and pulled him down on his thigh. Sherlock’s eyes watered but his hands stayed folded on his nape.  
“I think I will force-feed you tonight instead of putting your dinner into your bowl. So you at least get some nutrition. So be grateful!” John once shook him.  
“I am grateful, Sir! Thank you for providing my dinner, Sir!” Sherlock replied and John looked rather pleased.  
“Very well, go and cook my dinner. You know where I stored yours and what to do.” He let go.  
“Yes, Sir.” Sherlock slowly got up, bowed and made a few steps backwards. He hurried into the kitchen and started John's dinner. He actually was happy to get fed at all. Sometimes he didn’t. But perhaps John had realised that he was dangerously thin by now. His bones and ribs stuck out and he didn’t like it. He had said so before.

Sherlock brought John his dinner after he had set up the table for him.  
“Go and collect the things we need.” John ordered and Sherlock was glad he was left alone for a bit while John ate. He found the tube and cleaned it. He spent the remaining time like that until John called him.  
“Come here, slut. I am ready. Clean up and get the cuffs, as well!” Sherlock hurried and at first cleared the table and washed John’s dishes. He dried and polished them and put everything back into the cupboard. Then he retrieved the cuffs and knelt on the tiles in the kitchen.  
John came up and took the cuffs.   
“Hands!” He said no more but Sherlock just moved his hands on his back for John to cuff his wrists. Next he held up the tube and Sherlock just opened his mouth.  
“Swallow, bitch!” John ordered and Sherlock started. It always was a horrible feeling when the tube moved down his oesophagus. He could feel it and it made tears spill.  
John pressed the _food_ into him and it took them about fifteen minutes to finish the business. John pulled out the tube and made Sherlock belch.   
“I am sorry, Sir.” He said at once.  
“You better be.” John replied and took off the cuffs.

Sherlock again was in pain. And John didn’t stop but made him drink loads of soda, juice and finally milk and water. By then Sherlock knew what was coming up.  
“Get naked and collect the supplies for a night in restraints.” Sherlock crawled away. He picked up a catheter, a diaper and the medical cuffs.  
John looked at everything.  
“Get the muzzle, too.” Sherlock hurried back and returned with a medical mask. John again cuffed his hands.  
“Spread your legs!” He obeyed at once and John inserted the catheter. And of course he made it painful. Next he dressed him into the diaper and taped the hose to his thigh.   
“You know your place for this.” Sherlock nodded and crawled into the kitchen using only his knees. The last thing John did was put the muzzle on his face. Another tube led from the plastic-bag up to an opening in the muzzle. It got screwed to the front. It led inside his mouth so he would have to drink his pee.  
“Now there will be peace for tonight.” He pushed him down on the tiles and cuffed his ankles. Sherlock already froze. He knew John wouldn’t give him a blanket or even a pillow. He would have to wait until morning to get cleaned. If he was lucky it would be the next morning and not only when John would return from his shift.  
Soon enough he started to piss. He had been given too much to drink and when the cramps started he knew John had added a laxative to the mix, as well. He tried to relax his body but everything was just so humiliating. He had no choice though and kept filling the diaper.  
He would have preferred not to move but he just shivered so much due to the cold, that he felt the filling of his diaper move against his skin.  
His piss filled the urine-bag taped to his skin. Soon it ran through the hose and into his mouth so he had to drink to avoid being choked by his own piss. The cycle would last for the whole night.  
Or as long as John saw fit.


	3. Gregory's Worries

Greg sat in his living-room and stared at his mobile. He deeply breathed several times and finally chose Mycroft Holmes from his contacts. He answered after the first ring.  
“Detective Inspector, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?” He sounded very polite and posh. Greg pulled a face but started to speak.  
“Good evening, Mr Holmes. I am calling because of Sherlock. He needs …” But here Greg got interrupted.  
“I know exactly what he needs, Detective Inspector. What did he do now?” Mycroft asked.  
“I believe he didn’t do anything. I believe he is in grave danger.” Greg seriously replied. There was a minute break.  
“You do sound serious, DI Lestrade. What makes you think he needs our help?” Mycroft Holmes asked.  
“I’d prefer talking to you in private, if possible. I can’t tell you over the phone, I am sorry.” Greg quietly said.  
“Now I do really think it’s serious. I suggest you meet me in my club tomorrow for lunch.” He said.  
“I am glad you are willing to see me, Mr Holmes. Where is your club?” Greg asked.  
“I'll text you the details. Please be aware of the non-talking rule. Also ties are required.” Mycroft added.  
“Huh.” Greg made a noise that could mean anything. Then he cleared his throat.  
“I’ll behave.” He just said because he couldn’t think of anything else. He heard him chuckle.  
“I should think so, DI Lestrade. See you tomorrow!” And he hung up. Greg glared at his mobile but then just shook his head.  
“He probably is a fucking dominant. Good, I have a day off tomorrow. I should brush my suit and iron my tie.” Then he snorted.  
But the next day he did exactly that. He also sat down at his desk and wrote down his encounter with Sherlock at Tesco.  
And when he finally was neatly dressed and made up he looked into the mirror.  
“Who do I want to impress?” He just shook his head and had a last look at the directions Mycroft had texted him. Right then another text popped up. He quickly opened it wondering if he would cancel their lunch. But it simply said:

_“Just get into the car outside your flat, Detective Inspector. The tube is so tedious.”  
MH_

Greg grinned and locked his door. A big limo was parked at the curb and made him swallow. A driver left the moment he approached and opened the car.  
“Thank you.” Greg politely said.  
“You are welcome, Sir. Please feel free to help yourself.” He sat behind the wheel and started the car.  
“Help with what exactly?” Greg asked himself but suddenly a screen slid open and there was a bar with drinks and snacks. Greg just took a soda because he didn’t want alcohol. His head needed to be clear. But he took a chocolate bar.  
They arrived quickly and Greg wiped his mouth clean with a napkin he had also found inside the bar. The door was opened again and Greg stood on the pavement in front of a large and pompous white building.  
“Please ring the bell. Mr Holmes awaits you.” And gone he was. Greg swallowed and climbed up the stairs. He remembered the not talking rule and wondered how the personnel would know whom he wanted to see.  
Anyway, daring Greg rang the bell and heard nothing. But the door was opened quickly and he was ushered inside. It only worked with eyes and gestures but soon Greg stood in a salon and the door was closed behind his back.  
“Detective Inspector, nice to finally meet you.” Suddenly Mycroft Holmes stood in front of him and held out his hand for him to take.  
“Mr Holmes, thanks for seeing me. I appreciate it.” Greg took his hand and smiled. Sherlock’s brother was a very attractive man. He was tall, taller than Sherlock, and wore impeccable clothes, three pieces, of course. He had ginger hair and was slim.  
“Please, take a seat. I’ll have lunch served. We will discuss my brother afterwards.” He pulled and Greg passed by. At once his large hand was placed at Greg’s lower back. He tensed for just a second but then moved with the light push. It felt good. So he was a dominant.  
Anyway, Greg sat down and looked at him. Mycroft typed something into his mobile and a few seconds later a man wearing a waiter’s uniform but clearly looking like a body-guard entered and brought their lunch. It smelled divine and Greg straightened up.  
There were many things to choose from and Greg had no idea where to start.  
“Please, help yourself, DI Lestrade.” Greg took potatoes and fish and some salad, too.  
“Thanks again for the invitation to lunch.” Greg said and waited for him to take his food. But he only took a bit of the salad. Greg raised a brow.  
“Aren’t you hungry?” He asked and saw him tense just a tiny bit. Then he just shook his head and started to poke into the greens. Greg shrugged and devoured his lunch. He even dared and took from the dessert. Everything was just perfect and so he told Mycroft.  
“I will tell the cook then.” He hadn’t taken any dessert. But now he poured drinks and moved him back towards the sofa.  
Greg collected all his strength and pulled out his notes. Mycroft raised a brow.  
“I just don’t want to forget anything.” Greg justified himself. Mycroft smirked.  
“Go ahead then.” He folded his hands beneath his nose and leaned back into the sofa. He even closed his eyes and listened intently. Greg cleared his throat.  
“How well do you know Dr Watson?” He started with a question.  
“I checked his army-files. He is a decorated war-hero. He also is an army-doctor. Of course you know that he is a strong dominant. His files are clean.” His eyes were still closed.  
“I met your brother the other day while I was shopping. He looked horrible. He is malnourished and pale as death. He hasn’t been working for me for quite a long time and always came up with some weird excuses. I also happen to know that he doesn’t experiment at Bart’s anymore. Dr Hooper told me. He has completely excluded himself from everything and everyone he knew or had before. I believe, he is stuck in an abusive relationship with Dr Watson. I believe, he is suffering and that this doctor torments him, hurts him. I believe he isn’t able to get away by himself. He needs us, Mr Holmes, and I want to help him because he is my friend.” Greg felt exhausted and finished his drink. 

Mycroft Holmes kept sitting there for about a minute and then suddenly leaned forward opening his eyes.  
“This sounds greatly disturbing, DI Lestrade. Did my brother say anything?” Mycroft said.  
“He sort of admitted not feeling well and being mistreated. He accepted my offer to come by, but he was scared I would talk to John.” Greg replied.  
“I see. I believe you are right. We need to get him out. I will take care of it. Don’t you worry anymore, DI Lestrade.” He stood and topped up their glasses. Greg was too surprised to deny him and gladly accepted another drink.  
“Thank you, Sir. But how will you take care of it?” He looked at him out of wide brown eyes. Mycroft swallowed.  
“I will call him and invite him for a family dinner. If he somehow cancels, I will appear at 221B Baker Street myself.”  
“But I think it’s really urgent. I …” Greg got interrupted.  
“I told you not to worry anymore, Detective Inspector.” He put some force behind it and Greg started to sweat.  
“But how can I not worry about him? I need to know what you are up to, what you will be doing and when!” Greg stared into Mycroft’s grey-blue eyes.  
Mycroft stared back. It quickly became a staring contest. Greg might be a submissive and Mycroft a strong dominant but Greg won. Mycroft was utterly surprised. Strangely he wasn’t angry though.  
“I understand. I do constantly worry about my little brother.” He finally said and it relaxed Greg a lot.  
“Would you please keep me informed then?” Greg asked again and Mycroft slowly nodded.  
“I will. I think, you should be going to see him anyway. You promised him and he probably waits for you, no matter what it will cost him afterwards.” He looked at Greg who swallowed.  
“What do you mean by it will cost him?” He quietly asked. Mycroft topped off their drinks.  
“I believe Dr Watson will punish Sherlock because he hasn’t managed to get rid of his old contacts, friends even. Dr Watson won’t like it.”  
“Gods …” Greg bit his lower lip and cast his eyes. Tears threatened to spill. Mycroft just stared. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He had never been in a real relationship with a submissive. But now all his instincts just told him to pull Gregory into his arms, embrace and console him.  
Greg felt cold. His hand holding the tumbler shook and he carefully placed the glass on the nearby table. He reached into his pockets to find a tissue. He didn’t look at Mycroft; it was just too embarrassing.   
But suddenly he got hugged and thin fingers stroked over his back. He threw himself into the embrace and cried his heart out.  
A few minutes later he sat up straight again and angrily wiped over his eyes.  
“Forgive me. This was stupid. I’ll better be going.” He once sobbed and now Mycroft handed over the tissue-box.  
“There is nothing to forgive and it wasn’t stupid. It only showed me how much you care for my brother and I am happy for him that he has a friend like you.” Greg stared at Mycroft. He hadn’t expected such a reply.  
“Really?” He asked and reached out for his tumbler. Now Mycroft looked up at him again.  
“Really. So please, don’t feel bad. I will support you whatever your decision is, if you will be going or not, I will be there for you.” Of course Mycroft wanted to see him again and this was his chance.  
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I admit, I had no high hopes when coming here to see you but I am glad I was wrong.”  
“I feel quite bad because I did not see my brother was having problems. I was just happy that he finally found a dom who would take care of him. But I never imagined this.” Mycroft slowly shook his head.  
“If I hadn’t met him at Tesco, I really don’t want to know what could happen to him. We have to do something!” Greg desperately looked at Mycroft who at once took his hand. And this time he didn’t think about it, he just followed his instincts. And Greg let him. He even liked it. Him.  
They smiled at each other and it was something between them. It wasn’t only their concern for Sherlock but a bit more.  
“Are you feeling better?” Mycroft finally asked after having calmed him down.  
“Yes, I do. Thanks again. I do feel stupid.” Greg said.  
“Don’t. Just don’t. If you need anything, I’ll provide it. Perhaps you need some more to eat? Some nosh? Ice-cream? Wine?” Mycroft offered looking still a bit worried.  
“I could have some chocolate, if you have some? And wine sounds good indeed. But I …” Greg had no chance because Mycroft already was on his legs.  
“Shut up. I’ll get it. You stay.” He even pointed his finger at him and Greg just closed his mouth. It took Mycroft a minute and he brought an assortment of chocolate and things. Greg’s eyes widened and he smiled up at him.  
“You are coddling me.” Greg said but reached out already.  
“I believe you deserve it.” Mycroft smiled and so did Greg.   
“Such a shame we are in his club. If we would be at his place, well …” Greg thoughtfully looked at him.  
“If we were only at my place, then …” Their eyes met and Greg blushed. But so did Mycroft and it made Greg raise a brow.  
“Only if you knew …” He thought and now Mycroft tilted his head.  
“I think I do.” He smiled and Greg’s smile in return warmed his heart.


	4. Rescuing Sherlock

Greg and Mycroft decided that Greg would appear at 221B right the next day. They needed to act quickly to not harm Sherlock any further. Greg would have liked to go sooner but cleary knew they had to come with some sort of a plan first.  
Mycroft provided some surveillance advice so they could record everything what was being said. It was just in case John was still there or would come home earlier. Mycroft didn’t fully trust the CCTV system when it came to Dr John Watson.  
And now Greg stood in front of 221B Baker Street. He deeply breathed several times but then finally knocked and opened the door. He slowly climbed up the stairs and the door was opened right when he approached.   
“Sherlock …” Greg wasn’t able to say more because what he saw was just terrible. Sherlock looked like a corpse. He moved very slowly but put up a small smile upon seeing Greg.  
“What happened? What do you need?” Greg carefully reached out but Sherlock shied away. Then there was the stench in the flat even though the windows were wide open.  
Greg knew that smell. He had been forced to wear diapers over a long period, too. It was his past now but he just knew this was it. John Watson had put Sherlock into diapers and just left him without cleaning him up.  
“I am so cold …” Sherlock suddenly whispered. Greg moved him over to the sofa and made him sit. Then he put a blanket on him and kept holding his hand.  
“Is he at work?” Greg asked and Sherlock nodded.  
“I can’t do this anymore, Greg. I can’t. I …” Sherlock started to cry and his whole body shook.  
“That’s why I am here. I promised to help you and now I am here to do just so.” He looked at him.  
“But how …” Sherlock didn’t speak more.  
“I spoke to your brother and he granted his help. He will do everything to help you. And so will I.” Greg said.  
“Really? I thought he never would …” But a small smile came up again.  
“He was shocked when I told him about you. He had no idea.” Greg said.  
“John is quite the actor. He deceived everyone, even my brother, with his helping doctor act plus the decorated war-hero stuff.” Sherlock quietly said.  
“But at first he must have been nice to you, am I right?” Greg asked.  
“He very much was. I fell in love with him.” Sherlock snorted being angry with himself.  
“It would have been what you deserve, Sherlock. Everybody needs someone to love or to be loved.” He gently stroked over his hand.  
“But what are we going to do? I can’t just leave my home behind. My belongings, he will destroy them just to hurt me.” His eyes watered.  
“I can take some stuff and so can you. We will get everything over to your brother’s. I believe he will gladly provide new clothes and such. You only have to worry about personal items, such as your violin.” Greg told him.  
“There are only several books and pictures I want to take as well as my skull. I need nothing more. Perhaps Myc will provide some new lab stuff for me.” Sherlock looked sceptic though.  
“I am sure he will. Just don’t worry. Pack what you need and we will carry everything away.” Greg looked at Sherlock who grabbed the hem of the blanket and threw it off of him. Then he started to tremble violently and wasn’t able to get up. Greg took over.  
“Is there a suitcase or a box I can use?” Sherlock just told him. He was bathed in cold sweat imagining John coming home early. Meanwhile Greg packed Sherlock’s books and pictures. He also found the violin and the case and handed it over to Sherlock.  
“You need to get up now and have a last look. I will take you over to your brother’s home. Come on!” Greg held out his hand and Sherlock took it. He stood on shaking legs but moved finally into the bedroom to have a last look.   
He swallowed but managed. And he kept holding his violin.  
Greg checked his mobile and there was a message from Mycroft.

_“You have done a great job, Gregory. I have sent a car. My assistant is waiting outside. Don’t worry, I have provided everything for my little brother.”  
MH_

Just then Sherlock took his scull from the mantle and held it tight.  
“Can we go now, please?” He quietly asked looking very much afraid. It broke Greg’s heart but he stepped up.  
“Sure thing. Come on. Your brother has sent a car and we can leave right away. You are sure you’ve got everything you want?” Sherlock once more looked around and finally took the framed bat from the wall. He passed by Greg and hurried downstairs taking the violin, the skull and the framed bat with him. Greg closed the door and took the box with his books and pictures.  
At the curb Anthea, Mycroft’s personal assistant, waited for them and opened the car.  
“Put it into the back, Detective Inspector. Sherlock, please sit down.” She looked worried now, too. Sherlock just threw himself into the car and moved deep into the seat. Greg followed and wanted him to buckle up but Sherlock shook his head.  
“No, I don’t want any restraints put on me.” He clung to his skull and Greg helplessly looked at Anthea.  
“It’s OK. I’ll drive carefully.” Greg sighed but tried to calm Sherlock some more. He took his hand again and placed it between his.  
“What happened last night? Do you want to talk about it?” Greg asked and Anthea put up the dividing screen.   
“He put diapers on me and let me stay on the kitchen tiles for the whole night. He gave me loads of fluids and also a laxative. I had to drink it again and again. My piss. There was a tube. And I was in pain, so much, and I froze. I still freeze. Sometimes I think it will never stop.” Sherlock’s voice was so low; it was almost not audible anymore.  
“You will soon feel better. We all will take care of you. You are safe now.” Greg seriously looked at him.  
“I am scared, Greg. What if he appears at Mycroft’s door? What if he breaks in and takes me away?” Sherlock bit into his lip and it started to bleed. Greg handed over a tissue.  
“And even if he appears at Mycroft’s door. There will be security and they will make him go away. Or Mycroft will have him arrested. I won’t even ask about him if he disappears.”  
The car stopped and Anthea opened the door for them. Greg got out first and helped Sherlock. He quickly ushered him inside. Mycroft was already waiting and Greg cold see how shocked he was upon seeing the state of his little brother.  
Sherlock just stood there holding his few belongings while Greg placed the box by the door.  
“Will you call me, Mycroft?” He called out before Mycroft would disappear into the depths of his house.  
“Where do you think you are going?” He asked instead and waved for him to come along. Slowly Greg followed the brothers.  
Mycroft placed his brother on the sofa in front of the fire-place. A fire was burning already and he also got the blanket.   
“I’ll get you something comfier.” Mycroft said and wanted to get him clothes but Sherlock held him back.  
“No, please. I’ll rather take a bath first. Don’t go away now. Just let me sit here for a bit. Talk to Greg. Lock the doors. Close the windows. Just please?” He had talked very quickly and both Greg and Mycroft just nodded.  
“I will see to it right away.” Mycroft at once started to check the windows and everything.  
“Would you like to eat something, Sherlock? You must be hungry.” Greg asked and Sherlock looked up.  
“Perhaps an omelette?” He hopefully looked between Greg and his brother and Mycroft at once wanted to leave.  
“No, Mycroft. If you don’t mind? I’ll take care of it, if you allow me into your kitchen.” Greg looked at him.  
“Please, Gregory. Feel free to use everything. There are enough supplies for whatever you have in mind.” Mycroft said looking at him.  
“Fine. You go and sit with your brother. I’ll take care of something to eat.” He smiled up at him and saw how Mycroft relaxed.  
“Thank you, Gregory.” Mycroft said and turned to his brother again. He slowly stepped up and sat by his side. Sherlock still clung to his few belongings he had carried out of 221B.  
“I am very sorry, Sherlock, for not having seen what I should have.” He looked at him but Sherlock wouldn’t look up.  
“I could have told you. It’s not your fault.” Sherlock replied huddling beneath the blanket. Mycroft for once didn’t know what to say.  
“I am glad Gregory came up to me, told me about you. He was very upset.” Mycroft told him.  
“I am glad he still is my friend, that he hasn’t given up on me.” Sherlock sadly smiled.  
“I have prepared a room for you. I did it myself.” Mycroft said somehow proudly and it made Sherlock look up.  
“I am not sure if I can sleep alone …” He quietly said.  
“Just try and if it doesn’t work, you come over like you always did. I will be staying at home until further notice and work from here. You won’t be alone, Sherlock.” Mycroft assured him. Sherlock visibly relaxed and closed his eyes. Then he slowly stretched out his long legs and held his bare feet close to the fire.  
Mycroft’s eyes widened upon seeing the dirty feet and also the bruises and scars. He swallowed. Obviously Sherlock hadn’t been allowed socks or even shoes. Greg hadn’t mentioned it before coming over. Mycroft felt sick.  
“I have prepared a little something for all of us. Please eat. You, too, Mycroft.” Greg had come back in and carried a tray with three plates. He had cooked omelette and also prepared a little salad by the side. Somehow there also was warm bread and butter. Mycroft did look surprised.  
“Gregory, I can never repay you …” He stared at him and Greg just shook his head.  
“Don’t you dare and try something foolish like that!” But he smiled saying so. Sherlock slowly reached out for a plate and Mycroft handed it over.  
“You think you can manage?” He asked and Sherlock slowly nodded. Then he just stuck his fingers into the eggs and both Greg and Mycroft looked shocked. It made Sherlock look up. Then he looked at his greasy fingers and he blushed.  
“I am sorry. He didn’t allow me cutlery.” Greg gave him a napkin followed by a fork. Mycroft planned horrible times for Dr John Watson and Greg was just worried.  
“Never mind. Just eat.” Greg gently said and Sherlock did eat both the omelette and the salad. He even managed a slice of buttered bread. Mycroft just watched from the side. The interaction between his brother and Gregory was working perfectly.  
After Sherlock was done he looked at his brother.  
“I’d like to take a bath now, please?” He hopefully sat up a bit straighter and Mycroft stood at once.  
“Come on then. I will prepare it for you. Gregory, will you still be here?” He asked.  
“I have to wash the dishes, so yes.” He loaded everything back on the tray and just disappeared back into the kitchen. Mycroft gaped and looked a bit shocked.  
“He was joking.” Sherlock quietly explained.  
“Oh, I see.” Mycroft replied.  
“No, you don’t.” Sherlock said and smiled at his brother. Mycroft slowly took him upstairs into his bath. He made him sit on the toilet-lid and started to fill the tub. He just added some milk-powder because he assumed that Sherlock’s skin would be bruised. He also assumed he had wounds.  
Finally, Sherlock stood and Mycroft helped him undress. Sherlock wouldn’t look at him and Mycroft paled. Now he looked like a ghost, too.  
Sherlock climbed into the tub really carefully and lowered his too thin body into the water. He quietly groaned and closed his eyes. Now Mycroft sat on the toilet-lid and kept watching him.  
“I am sorry.” Sherlock suddenly said with his eyes still closed. Mycroft looked up.  
“What for?” He asked.  
“For all the times I bickered with you or annoyed you or did whatever nonsense.” Sherlock replied.  
“You are my little brother. I expected nothing else.” Mycroft said.  
“You are also not fat.” Sherlock added opening his eyes. This made Mycroft smile again.  
“Thank you.” No more was said and no more was necessary.  
“I’d like the comfy clothes now, please?” Mycroft stood and reached out for him.  
“Get out then. I’ll help you.” Sherlock slowly stood and left the tub. Mycroft saw how thin he really was, how his bones stood out, his ribs were obvious and it was just horrible. He was badly malnourished.  
He gently towelled him dry and handed over a fluffy bathrobe. He showed him into the guestroom directly beside the master-bedroom. There were already pyjamas and a long sleeved shirt as well as socks. Sherlock took them all and even sighed when putting on the socks.  
Mycroft pulled at the blanket and Sherlock disappeared beneath it.  
“Sleep, brother-dear. I will talk to Gregory some more.” Mycroft sat on the bed holding his hand.  
“Stay until I sleep, please?” Sherlock begged and Mycroft nodded.  
“Sure. Just close your eyes and rest. I am here with you and you are absolutely safe.” Sherlock clung to his hand and slowly closed his eyes. Mycroft felt the moment he fell asleep and gently let go.   
Thoughtfully he looked at him for a few seconds more. Only then he left the room and went to find Gregory.

***

The moment John Watson came back to Baker Street he knew there was something amiss. The door into their flat was open and it was eerily quiet.  
“Bitch, where are you hiding?” He called out but there was no answer. He quickly checked the bedroom but he wasn’t there. He looked under the bed and realised his violin was gone. He slanted his eyes and checked the living-room.  
“Oh dear, you took off with your skull and bat. You are such a bad boy …” He only whispered the words but if someone would have been listening, it might have scared him.  
John poured himself a stiff drink and fell into his armchair.  
“I never thought he had it in him. He must have met someone. Probably that fucking DI from Scotland Yard. But where did they go?” John thought about it for quite a long time. He also thought about what to do now, how to get him back.  
He finally decided to just be brazen. Tomorrow he would go to the nearest police station and file a missing person’s report. Then he would see what will be going to happen, if there would be a visit coming up.  
Of course John also knew about Sherlock’s big brother who worked for the government and was rather powerful. It had come to his knowledge that his army files had been checked after he had moved in with Sherlock. But nothing had come out of it.  
He poured a second drink and used the evening-hours to imagine what he would do to Sherlock when he got him back.

***

Mycroft found Greg still busy in the kitchen cleaning up. He leaned against the door-frame and watched him. Suddenly Greg turned around and their eyes met.  
“Are you watching me?” He asked but smiled. Mycroft straightened up and slowly came closer.  
“I admit I am. I am sorry, it’s not appropriate.” Mycroft replied. Greg just snorted and shook his head.  
“I am done here anyway. What about Sherlock? Is he asleep?” Greg asked and Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes, he took a bath. I dressed him in warm, comfy clothes and put him to bed. He fell asleep quite quickly.”  
“He will be having nightmares, I am afraid.” Greg said.  
“I arranged for my work to be brought here, so I can stay with him all the time.” Mycroft said creeping closer. Finally, he reached out for Greg with a questioning face. Greg was happy to oblige and came into his arms.  
“May I offer you a drink, Gregory?” Mycroft whispered into his hair. Daring Greg lifted his hands and embraced him.  
“Yes, you may and I gladly take it.” He whispered into the space where shoulder met neck and he felt Mycroft shiver. Even more daring he gently placed a kiss there.  
“You are the strongest submissive I have ever encountered.” Mycroft looked at him and made him blush under his tan.  
“Thank you! And you are the weirdest dominant I have ever encountered.” Greg replied.  
“I don’t know what to say …” Mycroft was clueless.  
“Then don’t say anything. Perhaps though you might want to act?” A cheeky grin appeared on Greg’s face and it lightened up Mycroft’s heart.  
“I might just do that, yes.” Mycroft smiled and walked him into the living-room where he handed over a tumbler with whiskey. They sat close to each other on the sofa.  
“I want you to know that I am very happy. I mean, I couldn’t have expected your help, your gracious help, in this matter. You saved my brother. You are amazing!” Greg didn’t know what to reply. Instead he downed his drink.  
“I’d love to be amazing for you and not only because of Sherlock …” Greg quietly said and Mycroft pulled him into his arms.  
“I’d love to kiss you now. We can both watch out for him.” He placed his palm on Greg’s nape and pulled him even closer. Greg closed his eyes and opened his lips for him. And Mycroft started to kiss him using soon teeth and tongue. It was a rather messy business and it surprised Greg a lot. But he let him take over and gladly so.  
Both men were out of breath after a few minutes and Greg leaned back.  
“God, you are amazing, too …” He softly spoke and looked deep into Mycroft’s eyes.  
“Has anyone told you lately how beautiful you are?” Mycroft said and made him blush again.  
“I believe no one has ever told me.” Greg replied.  
“That’s a shame because it’s the truth.” They held hands and their fingers entwined.  
“I’d like you to stay.” Mycroft said. Greg swallowed. He hadn’t been in a relationship for ages.  
“I’d love to but you should know that I am not, that I haven’t …” Greg murmured the words.  
“There are no rules and no expectations. Just be with me. You are safe with me. I am not a brute like Dr Watson.”  
“I just don’t want you to be disappointed with me. But I do need time before … You know …” Greg cast his eyes.  
“Look at me, Gregory.” Mycroft said and Greg did just so.  
“I will need time, too. Time to adjust. I never had someone I cherished or wanted close. You are my first.” Both men smiled and Mycroft held him tight.  
“I’d really like to stay. But I will have to get up early tomorrow. I have to go to work and have to change before going.” Greg said.  
“You could call in sick?” Mycroft carefully suggested but Greg just raised a brow.  
“No, I am not doing such a thing. It’s not right.” Greg said and Mycroft sighed.  
“Then I just have to wait until we are in a trusted relationship so I can tie you to my bed and have my wicked way with you. Then I will be calling in for you.” But he grinned saying so and Greg had to giggle.  
“You impossible man.” He said but it sounded nice.  
“Let me hold you?” Mycroft asked and Greg came back into his arms. They sat like this for almost a full hour without speaking a single word. But it was nice and good.  
They sat like that until they heard Sherlock scream. He sounded panicked and frightened. Both men jumped and Mycroft ran out of the room and up the stairs as fast as he could. Greg followed on his heels.  
“There wasn’t an alarm, so it is probably just a nightmare.” Mycroft panted.  
“Hopefully you are right.” They both entered Sherlock’s room. He indeed was having a nightmare. He threw his body from one side to the other and had thrown the blanket off the bed. He was bathed in sweat and his body convulsed. Mycroft moved up and sat down on the bed.  
“Sherlock, wake up! It’s me, you are safe. Greg is here for your protection, too. Wake up!” It took him several minutes until Sherlock finally shot up into a sitting position and stared around, his eyes full of panic.  
“I am here. You are here. He isn’t here. God, I am a mess …” He rubbed over his eyes and Mycroft pulled him into his arms.   
“We will be taking care of you. Don’t worry. You are safe now.” Only now Sherlock started to cry.  
“What do you need?” Greg asked coming closer.  
“Hot tea, please?” Sherlock sobbed out the words but looked up at him.  
“Coming right up.” Greg turned around and walked downstairs into the kitchen. It almost felt like home by now. He sadly smiled and prepared Sherlock’s tea. He also found him some nosh he put on a saucer. He brought everything back up where Sherlock sat against the headrest by now with Mycroft by his side.  
Greg handed over tea and nosh and walked outside again. He returned with two fresh drinks and sat on the edge of the bed.  
“I know it’s hard, Sherlock, but you need to talk about it.” Greg quietly said making him look up.  
“I know.” He quietly said.  
“But not now. Tomorrow. Will you be here?” He asked and Greg nodded.  
“So it seems.” He smiled.  
“I invited Greg to stay over and luckily he agreed.” Mycroft added.  
Sherlock slowly devoured his tea and the nosh and fell asleep again. Greg looked at Mycroft.  
“Listen, you should stay with your brother. We will carry him into your bedroom and I will stay here. What do you think?” Greg asked and Mycroft sighed.  
“I think that might be for the best. But we shouldn’t move him. I will stay here and you may go into my bedroom. That way we are close, so if something else happens, well, you know.” By now he looked very worried. Greg reached out for him and took his hand.  
“I will stay as long as it takes. Don’t you worry. If you need me, I come running.” Greg said.  
“I don’t know what to say …” Mycroft slowly shook his head.  
“You just tell me, if I may use your pompous bath.” Greg said and it made Mycroft smile at bit at least.  
“Take whatever you need, Gregory. I am afraid though, my pyjamas won’t fit you.” He said.  
“Never mind. I sleep in the nude.” With that he turned and left the room. Mycroft stared at his back and licked his lip. Then he looked at Sherlock again. He sighed.   
“Here are your pyjamas, you will need them staying in here.” Greg brought them over.  
“Thank you, Greg. I shall print that on the t-shirt, I will be constantly wearing being with you.” Greg laughed.  
“So you can be funny!” He gently stroked over his head and left again.   
“And this should have been my job, give him comfort. God, he is so perfect …” He shook his head and changed. He gently moved Sherlock to the side after having come out of the bath. He didn’t react or woke either. Mycroft pulled up the blanket and moved close. He placed his arm around Sherlock’s thin waist and murmured assuring things, so he wouldn’t get scared.


	5. Talking

Sherlock slowly woke and strangely felt good. He even felt safe which was a feeling rather unknown to him these days. Carefully he opened his eyes but didn’t move. He also carefully inhaled and smelled home. Suddenly he remembered and turned his head.  
There was his big brother Mycroft sleeping by his side. During the night his arm had fallen off but Sherlock had moved up close. Sherlock smiled and was forever grateful for having been rescued.   
Now he needed the bath. He actually knew he could just go because he was with Mycroft and Greg, but John’s _training_ had been so severe he at once started to sweat only thinking to use the bath without asking for it.  
Luckily right then the door was quietly opened and Greg peaked inside. Sherlock at once moved up to him.  
“Greg, please, I need the loo …” Desperately he moved from one foot onto the other and Greg at once knew what his problem was because of his own past.  
“Go on then, I’ll go and prepare breakfast. Just come downstairs when you are done.” Sherlock smiled and hurried along. Greg cast a longer look at Mycroft who was still asleep. He didn’t wake him and left for the kitchen.  
He collected everything and noticed very well that someone had stocked up the food supplies. Were there any fairies around doing this in here? Greg wondered how this household worked.  
A few minutes later Sherlock appeared clad in two pairs of socks and a dressing-gown.  
“Would you help me with this?” Greg asked to keep him busy and he really nodded.  
“Sure.” But then he just looked at Greg and waited for orders.  
“What would you like to eat? Perhaps something you haven’t had for a long time?” Greg tried to push him and it worked beautifully. Sherlock just blurted it out.  
“Pancakes!” But at once he hunched his shoulders and looked away.  
“Perfect!” Greg replied and started to hand over the ingredients. And Sherlock relaxed again. He started to stir the dough and finally looked up again.  
“What about you and my brother, Greg?” He quietly asked. Greg cleared his throat.  
“Well, that’s quite the question to ask.” He put some more toast on a plate and continued.  
“We got close after I had told him about me meeting you at Tesco. At first I was rather daunted around him because he is a dominant but soon the feeling faded.” Greg thoughtfully smiled.  
“So you like each other?” Sherlock asked.  
“I do like him. A lot. If the feeling is being returned, well, you will have to ask him yourself.” But Sherlock smiled.  
“I think it is. You shouldn’t worry.” Sherlock heated up a pan.  
“No, you are right. He has been kissing me yesterday evening and it was wonderful. I am sorry to bother you with that … Forgive me, please?” Greg said. Sherlock just snorted and then smiled at him.  
“How have you been sleeping, Sherlock?” Greg asked out of the blue.  
“After Mycroft joined me I have slept quite well. Not long though because I am not used to it. I always was alert and wasn’t able to relax. Still I always think that he is here somewhere. Hidden in some room and just waiting to jump out and get me. I think about the things he might be doing to me, if he ever gets the chance. And you saw me this morning, Greg.” He turned the pancake.  
“Yes, I did. And because I have been through that special thing myself, I knew exactly what your problem was.”  
“I had no idea.” Sherlock said.  
“I never told anyone.” Greg replied.  
“How did you get away?” Greg shrugged and loaded the breakfast on a tray. He also heated up the beans and the bacon as well as the fried eggs.  
“It was a long time ago and I was still young. I thought everything was as it was supposed to be. I wasn’t experienced and he was much older than me. Later I found out that my parents had arranged everything, actually they somehow had sold me.” Sherlock was just shocked and Greg shrugged.  
“Never mind, Sherlock. It’s long over.” He sounded not so good right now.  
“But how … I mean I don’t want to hurt you, Greg, but I need to know.” Sherlock said.  
“You can’t ever hurt me, Sherlock. And I ran away. One day I packed my very few belongings and just left.” Greg looked into nothing.  
“What did you do afterwards?” Sherlock asked.  
“I lived on the streets for several weeks until I found my way into London where I was picked up by the police. They arranged social service and I found a place to stay. It was a home for abused submissives and I soon got better. I started school again and became a policeman. That’s my story.”   
“And here you are, you perfect man.” Mycroft entered the kitchen. He must have been standing there for quite the time and now he didn’t care about Sherlock’s presence but hugged and kissed Gregory. It made Sherlock smile and Greg blush.  
While Greg and Mycroft were busy with each other Sherlock produced a lot of pancakes. He also added cinnamon and sugar to the tray and baked some cheese directly into them. He licked his lips and then took over the bacon and stuff Greg had started. He was rather proud with himself because it was a decision he had made all by himself.  
In the meantime, Greg pushed Mycroft a bit off his chest.  
“It’s enough now, love. Our breakfast is burning.” He said and Mycroft sighed.  
“I couldn’t help myself. I listened in and I know it’s impolite but I just had to. I had no idea, Gregory.” Mycroft said.  
“It was a long time ago. Now I am a brilliant DI in love.” He seriously looked at Mycroft who stared back at him.  
“You are?” He asked. Sherlock carried the tray outside.  
“Oh, absolutely. What about you?” Greg asked smiling.  
“I am not a DI.” Mycroft was confused. Greg grinned and tilted his head. Mycroft blushed a bit.  
“I mean I am in love. But I am a, I don’t know what I am. A man in love sounds quite right.” He almost stuttered.  
“You are an Emperor in love.” Sherlock said coming back. Greg giggled and it was a lovely sound.  
“Let’s sit down for breakfast, please?” Sherlock asked and they followed him into the dining-room where he had set up the table in a very nice way.  
“This is nice, Sherlock. Thanks.” Greg smiled and quickly sat down. Mycroft watched his brother but found nothing alarming right now. They all sat and had breakfast together. It felt like family. They all had the same thought.  
“I would like to talk to you, both of you. Is that OK?” Sherlock asked after they sat with their coffee left.  
“Of course, brother-mine. Whenever you need to talk.” Mycroft said.  
“I will be listening, Sherlock.” Greg added. Sherlock sighed and stood.   
“No, let me.” Greg carried the left-overs into the kitchen and cleaned up while Mycroft and Sherlock went into the living-room. They sat in armchairs and left the sofa for Greg. Only when he sat down, too, Sherlock started to speak.

***

Dr John Watson woke the next day and was still very much pissed. He needed to calm down before he went to the police to file the missing person’s report. So he made a stop-over in his club and booked a rent-boy. Sherlock never knew that he still went to this club. He snorted while looking over the offerings. The manager was quite surprised to see him here at this time of the day since it was still before noon.  
“I need someone who can stand a lot.” John didn’t greet him because he was in a mood.  
“What do you have in mind?” The manager carefully asked. He knew John’s reputation.  
“Everything.” John just glared at the man who swallowed even though he was a dominant, too. He wondered whom to give to John. Perhaps someone who he could spare?   
“I’ll be right back. Please take a seat and have a drink.” He poured it himself because he didn’t want to lose one of the bar-slaves.   
John watched him leave and smirked. He only had to wait for five minutes. He brought back a rather young sub who looked nothing like Sherlock. John’s eyes roamed over his body and he was pleased with what he saw.   
“He’ll do.” John stood. The rent-boy was already on his knees and John took over the leash. He got the key to the play-room and he dragged the poor sod along.

***

Two hours later John disinfected his bloody hands and straightened his clothes while the boy was carried out on a ledger.   
John felt much better and walked home to change into fresh clothes to make a good expression at the police-station. He was aware of the fact that Mycroft would probably be informed the moment the missing person’s report would enter the system. But he didn’t mind. He even would ask him for help just to appear normal.

John had no clue that Sherlock was with Mycroft. John believed he never would turn to him for help because he was a dominant, too. 

John believed the dominants were of one breed and assist each other with run-away-subs. He had no idea he was mistaken.  
He also underestimated Gregory Lestrade because he was just a submissive. They weren’t worth a bloody penny anyway or so John thought. He wondered how this sub could have achieved his position within Scotland Yard and whom he had bribed or had sex with. Or both.

At the police-station he looked very worried and even shed a few tears. He was interviewed and he answered every question they had for him. He was given a tissue, tea and a snack.   
John Watson had amazing self-control. He fooled them all. And when he left the station he was convinced no one had any idea what really happened at 221B Baker Street. And if they found Sherlock they would bring him back and he would welcome him with all the love he had for him.

None.

He grinned sitting at home in his armchair again and stretching out his short but muscular legs. He was in quite a good mood now even though he had to prepare his own meals and everything. But that would soon change again.  
He had certain fantasies what he would do to Sherlock the moment he was given back to him.  
His fantasies included metres and metres of rope and a bull-whip, probably some electric devices, too.  
And he would fuck him bloody. Again and again he would fuck into every opening the boy had.  
And where his cock didn’t fit he would piss into.  
Yes, he would do all of this! He would destroy him.   
“He is mine!” John yelled into the quiet of 221B.

***

“At the beginning it was wonderful. He was very gentle with me and lured me in. I trusted him because he gave me joy and happiness. I had never felt something like that. He woke things inside me I had no idea they were even there.” Sherlock had started to speak and sat huddled beneath a blanket on an armchair. Greg sat on the sofa and his legs were folded beneath him. And Mycroft sat opposite of Sherlock in his armchair and was mentally lengthening the list for Dr Watson’s torments.   
“What changed and how?” Mycroft asked.  
“It happened slowly and at once I didn’t really notice. I thought, I needed to give him something back. So if he liked something a lot I didn’t like at all, I thought I had to do it, to make it good for him because I loved him.” He swallowed and Mycroft got him some water.   
“There were only small things at the beginning. For example he made me wear a collar all the time. Even when I went to work or into Bart’s. That’s why I always wore a scarf. Next came the hand-feeding or me being not allowed to go outside all by myself. He wanted to be in control. No, he needed to be in control. It all ended with me being in the nude all the time except when we expected visitors. But that stopped one day, too.”  
Greg looked guilty and Mycroft did, too.  
“However, he dished out punishments for the smallest things he didn’t like. You have seen my body. He had many instruments of pain and he really enjoyed hurting me. And he not only hurt me, he humiliated me. He dressed me into diapers, left me behind for more than 24 hours or pissed into me. He made me into a bin once after I had forgotten to take the rubbish outside.” Gregory groaned.  
“Please, Sherlock, give me a break. I can’t go on. I just can’t …” He once sobbed and hid his face behind his hands. Mycroft wanted to comfort him but Sherlock was faster. He stood and walked over. Then he hugged him carefully.  
“Don’t, Greg. Just don’t. You saved me. I will be able to start a new life because of you. So just stop this, will you?” His voice was low and he only whispered the words but they calmed Greg down a lot. He looked at him out of red rimmed eyes but put a sad smile on his face.  
“I will listen to everything you have to say, Sherlock.” It was a promise.  
“And so will I. I also will arrange a not so happy ending for Dr Watson, brother-mine.” Mycroft looked beyond angry and it made both subs freeze.  
“I would like to rest some more. I can’t go on with without a break.” Sherlock quietly said looking at his hands.  
“And you shall have it. Do you need anything?” Mycroft asked but Sherlock slowly shook his head.  
“No, I am good. I’ll just go to bed.” He slowly stood and moved a few steps followed by his brother. Both men looked at Greg who still sat on the sofa and sobbed a little bit. He also blew his nose several times.  
“Talk to Greg, please? He needs your help, too.” Sherlock said looking at his brother.  
“I will. Hopefully I can make him stay. I don’t want him to be alone. I wonder, if Dr Watson would be stupid enough to visit him.” Sherlock’s eyes widened.  
“You think he could do that? That he could do something to Greg?” Sherlock paled dramatically.  
“I do think so, brother-mine. Yes, I do.” Sherlock swallowed listening to his brother.  
“Perhaps I will rest downstairs somewhere.” Sherlock said but Mycroft shook his head.  
“No, you go upstairs. You are absolutely safe here. Don’t worry.” He walked him back into the guest-room and watched him climb into bed. A minute later Sherlock was fast asleep.  
Mycroft sighed and shook his head.  
“This is horrible …” He turned away and just wanted to leave when his mobile dinged with a text alert. He pulled it out of his jacket and raised a brow. It was from Anthea and his eyes widened upon reading it.

_“Dr Watson filed a missing person’s report for Sherlock. Actions?”  
Anthea_

“What a wanker …” Mycroft muttered the words when entering his living-room and that made Greg sit up.   
“What happened?” He carefully asked. Mycroft just dropped on the sofa beside him and held up his mobile for him to see. Greg’s eyes widened and he looked at Mycroft.  
“This is an audaciousness I can’t even describe.” Greg only whispered the words and Mycroft nodded.  
“You are right.” Both men stared at the display and after a few seconds Greg stood and poured a drink even though it was still rather early.  
“Thank you, love.” Mycroft murmured and Greg stopped breathing. His hands holding the drinks shook while he stared at Mycroft.  
“What did you just say?” He quietly asked moving closer to him.  
“Hm?” Mycroft looked up and saw the state of Greg. He dropped his mobile and took the tumblers from him.  
“What’s wrong, Gregory? What happened? You have paled?” Obviously he had no idea what he had said and Greg swallowed. Should he tell him? Or not? Or what?  
“Talk to me, please?” Mycroft said reaching out for him.  
“You have been using an endearment.” Greg chose the formal side of things.  
“I sure did, yes, you are right.” Mycroft cleared his throat.  
“Do you have any objections?” He then asked. Greg smiled.  
“No, I don’t. Not at all. It’s nice. I like it. I never … Just keep doing it? Please?” Greg stumbled over his words and Mycroft quickly took his hand.  
“Stop it. Never beg for that because I won’t be able to stop anymore. I am glad, we came to this point even though it is because of what happened to Sherlock.” Both men smiled at each other and Greg pecked a kiss on Mycroft’s lips who just let it happen.  
“He really needs our help. Be assured, I will be here and stay by his side. First thing tomorrow will be checking on what John had reported. Gods, I can’t believe I went out for a pint with this monster.” Greg chewed on his lip.  
“I even checked his army files. There was nothing. I sensed nothing. He is dangerous, very much so. He slipped right through my net. The first thing I will do now is placing Anthea on him, see if she can find anything if she digs the deepest.”  
After these words they sipped their drinks and even refilled again.   
“I am knackered. I need to go to bed. Again." Greg admitted. Mycroft smiled.  
“Go, you know your way by now.” Mycroft said.  
“Won’t you come? I will skip lunch and have a snack later.” Greg had hopefully asked but stood already.  
“I will join you soon but I need a few minutes for myself.” Mycroft replied.  
“I understand. I get ready for bed. I might be asleep though when you make it upstairs.” Greg smiled.  
“I’ll try not to wake you, love.” Greg blushed again but turned around and left. Mycroft looked at him until he was no longer seen on the stairs. Only then he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He stood and opened the window to light a cigarette. He deeply inhaled and started to think.


	6. Confrontation

Mycroft went to bed after having read the missing person’s report on Sherlock. He even called the Superintendent to get the number of the poor guy who had filed it. He interviewed him very thorough about the state of mind of Dr John Watson. The impression the officer gave him was one of a very worried and sad dominant who dearly missed his beloved submissive.   
Mycroft thanked him but announced to interview him some more and next time by DI Gregory Lestrade. Then he hung up. He left a devastated man behind who was very much worried about his further career with the Metro Police.  
Only then Mycroft finished his drink and walked upstairs. He did a quick wash-up but brushed his teeth. Before he went to bed he had a look into his brother’s room. He quietly stepped inside and saw that the night-light was on and he was resting on his side with the blanket all the way up. But his eyes didn’t move beneath their lids and he also wasn’t sweating or paler than normal. For the moment he seemed to be alright.  
He left as quietly as he had entered and now looked at Greg who was deep asleep. Mycroft smiled. He was happy even though he worried about him. He hadn’t known about his past. He had only ever looked into his files from Scotland Yard and it had been enough for him. But now he knew he had to dig some more to help him the best way he could. He would offer everything needed.  
He carefully climbed into bed and under the blanket. Greg made some quiet noises but moved a bit. Mycroft placed his arm around him and closed his eyes. He only worried for a minute and then fell asleep planning his actions for the next day.

***

John used the following day after having filed his report to contact some old army-buddies. He needed to establish an old contact. He needed to buy weapons and other things to contain a prisoner. He needed the place to contain one, too. He needed the help of people to get to this person and transport him there. He had enough money to do so.  
He mentally rubbed his hands while preparing his breakfast. He would torment the boy in every way possible. He would make him beg to be killed but he wouldn’t grant that. Of course he wouldn’t because he wanted to keep him alive and fuck him bloody all day long.  
John became very hard while thinking about what he would be doing soon to Sherlock Holmes. He adjusted his pants and buttered another toast.  
It knocked on the door and he wiped his fingers clean. Outside stood Sebastian Moran, an old army buddy and former Colonel. John grinned.  
“Sebby! Come on in! It’s so good to see you!” He stepped to the side and Sebastian entered the flat.  
“Johnny-boy, I couldn’t resist after you have called. And if you need my help to get your naughty sub back, who I am to not come running?” He smirked. John’s face darkened, he still was so very angry.  
“I do appreciate your help, Sebby. I also need your old contacts.” John said.  
“Let me tell you, John, I have much better contacts these days.” Sebastian smirked. John raised a brow.  
“You have?” John asked and sounded a bit sceptical.  
“Oh yes! He is amazing.” Sebastian nodded saying it.  
“He? Who is he?” John asked some more. They sat down, John in his armchair and Sebastian on the sofa.  
“I met him while looking for a hit. His name is James Moriarty and he is the Napoleon of Crime, the spider in the web. I work for him now and he allowed me to help you or even offer our help.” Sebastian looked pleased.  
“Are you shagging?” John always said what he had on his mind and Sebastian choked on his saliva.  
“He is my boss, John.” His answer was no answer at all.  
“So was I and I fucked you into oblivion.” John smirked when Sebastian blushed a bit.  
“Well. Yes. So.” He cleared his throat and John chuckled.  
“So?” John insisted and Sebastian sighed.  
“Yes, we shag. He gives me everything. He is perfect.” Sebastian was besotted.  
“You are besotted!” John told him grinning all over.  
“Perhaps I am.” He shrugged but grinned.  
“Anyway, what do you need?” Sebastian asked.  
“I need to break into a house owned by a government official, probably MI5, perhaps even more, maybe even C himself. I need to get a person out.” John explained while Sebastian listened.  
“Your sub is in there?” He asked and John nodded.  
“Yes, it’s his brother. I haven’t yet confirmed a visual but there is no safer place than his brother’s. At first I didn’t think he would be hiding there because he is a dominant, too, but now I am convinced he is there.”   
“What have you done so far?” Sebastian wanted to know. John grinned.  
“I have filed a missing person’s report.” Now he even smirked.  
“No, you haven’t!” Sebastian grinned. John tilted his head trying to appear bashful. Both men giggled.  
“I think Jim will like you. We should meet up. I promised him to listen at first to your plea and then tell him, but I am convinced he will help, as well.” Sebastian stood and looked at John.  
“When will you know?” John asked standing, too. Sebastian checked his watch.  
“Give me an hour, maybe two. I’ll call you as soon as I know.” He said taking his jacket.  
“Thanks a lot, mate. I appreciate it.” John let him out and sat down again. He sighed. Again he had the urge to fuck someone, to dominate either man or woman. The most important thing was that it hurt and was bloody. He lost himself in some of his fantasies for a while.

***

Sherlock had slept through the whole day and the following night but not very peaceful. He slowly sat up and rubbed over his tired eyes. He listened into the flat but it was still very quiet. Mycroft and Greg were still sleeping, he assumed.   
He stood up anyway and went through a slow bathroom-routine. He somehow even enjoyed his freedom to do as he liked even if it was still very difficult. He wasn’t used to this. John hadn’t allowed him anything. He always had to ask. No, that was wrong. He always had to beg. He had to beg if he wanted to shower, brush his teeth or use the loo. Mostly it was about the loo.  
Humiliation was a big item on John’s personal likings, so the diaper training had started soon. At the beginning, when he was still allowed jeans and such, he made him piss into them until the stench wouldn’t wash out anymore. From then one he became naked. It had been horrible but still Sherlock had tried to see the man he once loved. It took him a long time to recognise that he was better off being alone again than with Dr John Watson.  
It almost had been too late already when he had met Greg at Tesco. He never would have turned to his brother because he was a dominant, too. He knew Greg though and trusted him.  
But if, a big if, they hadn’t met he probably would have killed himself somehow. 

He shuddered.  
He had been desperate and now he was grateful for being here with his brother and even Greg. He had been lucky meeting Greg while shopping. But now he also was scared that John would come and get him.  
He knew if John wanted something he would do anything necessary to get it. In this case it was him he wanted. And Sherlock wasn’t sure that Mycroft knew of what John was capable of.  
He really had no imagination what John would do to him in case he got his hands back on him.   
Sherlock had to lean on the sink and inhale. He was a bit dizzy and felt sick, too. The moment passed though.  
He felt some hunger gnawing in his intestines and decided to go downstairs for a snack. He didn’t want to wake the others. He took the dressing-gown his brother had provided and marched into the kitchen. No one was up yet.   
Sherlock brewed fresh coffee and buttered a slice of toast. He took his mug and the toast into the living-room and looked outside. He saw the increased security and felt a bit better.  
He wondered how long it would take his brother and Greg to get up. He was a bit bored. He could help Mycroft with security though. He needed to talk about it. He knew he had hurt his brother and he had hurt Greg. Both men had been shocked.   
By now he also knew about Greg’s past and he hated himself for having him pulled into this.  
He chewed his toast wondering for how long he was supposed to live here. 221B Baker Street was actually his flat and John must leave. But would he ever feel safe in there if he knew John was still out there looking for him? Probably not.   
He swallowed the toast and almost choked on it. He shook his head and emptied his mug with the rest of his coffee. He also stopped looking outside because it only reminded him of everything. Now he actually wanted to have a real breakfast with his brother and Greg. He walked back into the kitchen and started preparing.  
A few minutes later Greg stumbled inside still rubbing his eyes.  
“You are up already. I was worried when you weren’t in bed.” He said looking for coffee. Sherlock filled a mug for him.  
“I was hungry so I came downstairs. It felt really good to do so.” Greg knew exactly what he meant and smiled.  
“Well, you have slept for one and a half day. You should be hungry.” Sherlock just stared at him. He hadn’t realised he had slept that long. But it had felt good.  
“It was quite the decision to get up and do all this by yourself, wasn’t it?” Greg asked another question and Sherlock slowly nodded.  
“Yes, it was. But it worked. It felt very good to be a bit by myself for a bit.” Sherlock said.  
“Listen, mate. If we are crowding you, just tell us. It’s just, we are worried.” Greg looked serious.  
“I know that, Greg. It doesn’t mean I am going outside. I never would. Not with him out there.” He shuddered.  
“Mycroft will see that you can move back into 221B. It’s your home and you have to reconquer it.” Greg said.  
“I thought about it, too. It’s mine and I always loved it.” Sherlock sounded thoughtful.  
“You will learn to love it again. But it will need time. You have to get used to be there by yourself and mostly feel responsible for yourself again. But we are here to help you. You will manage, Sherlock, because you are strong.” Greg assured him but Sherlock snorted.  
“Strong? If I had been strong, I would have left him earlier. It was only because I met you that something happened.” Sherlock said.  
“Yes, but you let it happen!” They locked eyes and finally Sherlock smiled a little bit.  
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” He sighed and started to set up their breakfast table. Greg put everything on a tray. When everything was just ready, Mycroft entered the room.  
“There is everyone!” He said looking around looking rather tired.  
“You chose the right moment to sit down for a proper breakfast, Myc.” Greg said and pointed towards the table. Mycroft plonked on a chair.  
“Thank you, both of you. This is nice …” He slowly took some eggs and ate. Sherlock looked at him but didn’t say a word. Greg wondered if something had happened. Finally, Sherlock spoke up.  
“Did something happen? You need to tell me, please. I need to know.” He didn’t look at his brother while he buttered another toast. Now Greg looked at him, too, raising a brow.  
“I really don’t want you to choke on your breakfast, but if you insist? It’s so not good what I have to tell you.” He sounded and looked very serious and Sherlock swallowed.  
“Tell.” No more was said and Greg nodded, too.  
“I was informed about the fact that Dr Watson killed a rent-boy in his favourite brothel.”  
“What?” Greg asked and Sherlock just paled and placed the toast back on his plate because his hands were shaking too much.  
“Well, there isn’t an official enquiry and no one told the Metro police about the brothel and the connection to Dr Watson but I was. The body was very mutilated. And as if this wasn’t enough, he also met up with a former comrade, one Colonel Sebastian Moran. We do know that he is second in command to James Moriarty, the most dangerous man in London.” Mycroft leaned back into the chair.  
“So he is up to something. He is planning right now.” Greg said looking at Mycroft.  
“He is planning an assault. And he needs reliable help. He wants me, Mycroft, and if he finds me here there will be an attack on this house. If people die, it is all my fault. The boy who had been killed, he died because of me!” Sherlock stared at them out of wide open eyes. He was panting and pale as death.  
“Don’t you dare start thinking like that! You know you are wrong! Dr Watson did all that and it’s not your fault!” Mycroft almost yelled at Sherlock who hunched his shoulders. Greg tried to intervene but didn’t manage.  
“You can’t let him do this to you, Sherlock!” Now Mycroft leaned over the table and glared at his brother. Sherlock jumped up and pushed his chair back that scratched over the tiles. Greg pulled a face.  
Sherlock slowly moved backwards and away from the table and his yelling brother until he hit the wall. He pressed his too thin body against it and looked scared to death.  
Mycroft didn’t seem to recognise the signs because he kept going until Greg caught his arm and held him tight.  
“Stop it, Myc. You are scaring him.” His voice was low and meant to calm him down. Only then Mycroft saw his brother who by now slowly sank down to the ground and plonked onto the tiles. At once he pulled up his long legs to appear as small as possible. His head stuck between his bony knees and was covered by his arms.  
“See?” Greg hissed the single word and hit Mycroft on the arm. Mycroft didn’t reply but looked at his brother.  
“Go and make it better!” Greg pushed him forwards and he moved to Sherlock’s side. Slowly he sank down on his knees.  
“I am sorry, little brother. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He whispered. There was no reaction coming from Sherlock.  
“Look at me, please?” Mycroft said but still didn’t touch him. He just waited him out.  
“Please …” Sherlock whimpered.  
“What is it?” Mycroft quietly asked.  
“Please don’t yell at me. It’s like getting hit in my face.” Now he sobbed, as well. Greg placed his hand on Mycroft’s shoulder.  
“He didn’t mean to hurt you, Sherlock. He is just upset. You know, we won’t ever hurt you, right?” Now Sherlock’s head slowly came up from between his legs. His face was wet and snot dried under his nose. Greg handed over a tissue-box.  
“My brain knows but I can’t work through it. I am always aware of loud voices, aggressive behaviour and just threats in general. Things I see as a threat. I don’t know how to explain.” Sherlock looked sad again.  
“Blow your nose, mate. We are good.” Greg said and handed over more tissues.  
“I am so grateful that you are here …” He looked at both Greg and his brother and blew his nose.  
“What do you want to do?” Mycroft asked and helped Sherlock stand.  
“I am exhausted. I’ll go and rest a bit. I’d like to take some books from the library upstairs?” Hopefully he looked at his brother who at once nodded.  
“Sure, take what you want. One of us will always be here.” Mycroft said and Sherlock slowly walked away.  
Mycroft and Greg looked at each other and suddenly Mycroft started to cry. Greg was shocked to the bones because he cried with no noises at all. He held up the tissue-box again because he didn’t know what to do.  
But he only did for a second and then just dropped it. Instead he pulled him into his arms and held him.  
“Hey, hey, it’s all fine. You didn’t mean to hurt him. He will cope. He will survive. Come down, please. Stop crying, Myc, please?” Greg spoke to him and used the voice he used with crime-victims. And here it worked, too. Mycroft let go and blew his nose. Then he looked at him.  
“What would I do without you?” He smiled a sad smile and Greg just shrugged.

***

John sat in one of Moriarty’s safe houses together with the Crime Lord himself as well as Sebastian Moran. Moriarty was very excited about the fact that he could get a hand on some of Mycroft’s Holmes secrets. He even had offered one of his most expensive whiskeys to John which surprised Sebastian a lot. And now they talked shop.  
“So you only know Sherlock’s brother is with MI5 or whatnot?” James asked.  
“Yes, Sherlock never said anything in detail but I assumed just so because I was informed that my army-files have been checked after having moved in with Sherlock.” James hummed.  
“I see. So perhaps he is even more than MI5.” He grinned.  
“I don’t bloody care what he is. I want my sub back.” John glared into his tumbler.  
“And you will.” Moriarty said looking at Sebastian.  
“Sebby, love, be so kind and get my laptop, will you?” He smiled up at him and at once Moran jumped up and went to retrieve it.  
“And you, Dr Watson, are supposed to be more careful with rent-boys. Now the Holmes household is warned.” John just shrugged.  
“Are you able to help me or not? You know, I am willing to pay every amount you ask for.” Now Moriarty snorted.  
“Dr Watson, I so not care about the money. I have plenty of that already. What I want is secrets. What I also want is to watch you punishing Sherlock Holmes.” Sebastian came back with James laptop.  
“Here you are, boss.” James just took it and Sebastian hovered by his side eagerly awaiting more orders.  
“I needed to let some anger out. Otherwise I couldn’t have filed the report.” John said.  
“I understand. Next time take some random sub from the street and not your club.” John had to admit that James was right and acknowledged it by grudgingly agreeing to his words.  
“Well, I see I got through to you. Now, let’s see what we can do.” He started to furiously type on the computer. John and Sebastian just watched him for several minutes. They watched him raising his brows, shaking his head and moving his legs about. When he finally looked up at John he looked rather pleased though.  
“Well, I think we can get in there. I need a bit more intel but will have that by tomorrow. I believe we can get your sub back during the next three days. Do you have a place ready where you can keep him?” Moriarty asked.  
“Yes, I have rented a storage facility using a false name and credit card. I already have brought everything there I need. The only item missing is Sherlock.” John smirked.  
“Very well. Be prepared to leave Baker Street in minutes after my call. They will come looking for you right away.” Sebastian nodded to Moriarty’s words.  
“Wait, I thought I am coming with you?” John leaned forwards and stared at the Consulting Criminal.  
“What made you think that? Of course you don’t! I am not taking you in there. My team is my team and you may be very capable due to your army time and such. Sebastian told me, but no. Deal with it or leave!” Moriarty glared at John. John glared back. Sebastian started to sweat when the two very strong dominants had their staring contest.  
“Very well, Mr Moriarty. How can I watch it then?” John asked very politely.  
“I will grant you access to a video-feed. It’s no problem.” Sebastian slowly exhaled.  
“We are done then. I am very pleased with everything and look forward to the events.” John dangerously smiled.  
“So do I, Dr Watson, so do I.” Moriarty replied.


	7. Attack

Greg kept staying with Mycroft and Sherlock. He had gathered some stuff from his home, for instance clothes and also his guitar. Mycroft had raised his brow but didn’t say anything. Greg placed the guitar in the master-bedroom as if it belonged there already. Mycroft forgot to tell him about the music-room he had.

Sherlock still was very alert to every single noise or loud voices around him. He kept looking out of the windows at odd hours as if expecting something. Mycroft had alerted security, he had got more men to secure the premises and Anthea was doing surveillance only.

So when the alarms went off at Mycroft’s town-house during the early morning hours Mycroft and Greg jumped out of bed not caring about clothes or decency at all. Both men grabbed guns they had stored close by and rushed to get Sherlock.  
Sherlock woke, too, and just stood by the bed panting, almost hyperventilating.  
“Come on, brother-dear. Panic-room! Now!” Mycroft grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. Sherlock stumbled by his side being scared to death and pale as a ghost. Greg followed suit.   
By now they heard gun-shots and screams from outside. There was also loud banging on the door and somewhere a window got smashed.  
“It’s upstairs, the window to the attic.” Mycroft said pushing Sherlock into the panic-room.  
“Where are your bloody troops, Myc?” Greg asked wildly looking around.  
“I have no idea.” He replied.  
“Well, then you go in there, as well.” And Greg pushed Mycroft strongly between his shoulder-blades and right into the panic-room and banged the door close. Mycroft knew better than to press the open-the-door button to get out again. It just wasn’t safe. And now they were safe, even if the house burnt down, nothing would happen to them.  
He switched the cameras on to watch what was happening outside. In a second he had four camera views on display. He was able to watch his people shot others being clad in black uniforms. So far only three intruders had made it inside. Greg was obviously already injured but shot two of them anyway. Then he got gunned down by the last.  
Now Mycroft paled, too. Sherlock wasn’t even watching. Instead he was pressed into a corner and again hid his head between his legs. He was shaking terribly but so far made no noise at all.  
Anthea sent several texts without signing them. That was a cleare sign of distress for her.

_“Helicopter is outside.”_

_“More troops coming in.”_

_“Paramedics can’t come in.”_

_“Hostile troops still around. Stay where you are!”_

Right then crashes and bombings were heard and the display went black. Mycroft’s fist hit the thing and he loudly swore. He kept staring at his mobile willing it to show him more and most importantly better news.

***

After Greg had closed the door he carefully moved through the house. He was able to hear the noises and gun-shots from outside when suddenly there were enemy troops inside. He threw himself behind a sofa that got torn apart by machine-gun fire. And he was trapped where he was now. He swallowed and thought of Mycroft and Sherlock. He was happy they were safe.  
Then there was a helicopter approaching outside and he wasn’t under direct fire anymore. Soldiers entered the house and stormed through. They left him alone though. They must have been briefed, probably by Anthea.  
Very carefully he looked around the edge of the destroyed sofa and found no direct threat. Slowly he moved forward and stood suddenly face to face with an attacker. The man shot at once and Greg pulled the trigger almost at the same time. Both men fell and Greg screamed out his pain. His hand was pressed to the wound on his arm and blood soaked through his pyjama-shirt. He groaned and closed his eyes for a second but kept moving.  
He met two more and shot them on sight but there was a third one he hadn’t seen. The next shot brought him down and everything went black.  
He didn’t completely lose his consciousness though. He didn’t feel any pain, not yet, and he wasn’t able to move, but he could hear everything that happened around him. So the words he heard next were rather interesting and he focused on them.  
“Where is that bloody guy we are supposed to get out of here?” One mercenary asked.  
“Troops upstairs said there is no one. I saw a panic-room but it’s not possible to get in. No chance.”  
“The boss won’t be pleased.”  
“It can’t be helped. The room is safe. Even if the house would be bombed to dust, that thing will stand.”  
“Plus, the troops coming in from the helicopter are getting too close. We have to leave now.”  
“We should try the office though. We need to get him something.”  
“You go and have a look. I try and hold them off.”  
One of them disappeared into Mycroft’s office and the other focused on the troops entering the house. Greg wasn’t touched or bothered in any way. Probably the man thought he was dead.  
Friendly troops finally stormed the house and shot the intruders left. Greg had no idea if the one who was looking for documents had got to them or had been shot. Also, paramedics were allowed inside and Greg was taken care of. Anthea stood in front of the panic-room clad in fighting-gear. Mycroft opened the door from the inside.  
“Sir, are you alright?” She asked. He just nodded and tried to look around her.  
“What about Greg? Is he hurt?” He asked.  
“He has been shot at, yes. The paramedics are on site already. He …” Mycroft pushed her away and wanted to get out but she held him back.  
“No, Sir. It’s not safe for you yet. Please!” And his training set in and he did as being told. He knew he could trust her. Always.  
“I’ll check on my brother.” He turned away and almost bumped into Sherlock who was already standing close behind him. He was still trembling and he was very, very pale. There were dried tears on his face and his eyes were red rimmed. They also swam in tears.  
“This is all my fault. If Greg is …” He once sobbed and desperately shook his head.  
“He’s not dead, Sherlock.” Anthea calmly told him and he slowly turned his head to look at her.  
“And how many others are?” Sherlock quietly asked. She seriously looked at him.  
“Two for sure but several were injured.” He wrung his hands looking between them.  
“This is all my fault! This happened only because of me, because I ran away.” He started to cry again and Mycroft pulled him into his arms.  
“It is their job to protect your brother and his family. They are soldiers and were ordered to protect. This is not your fault. It’s all Dr Watson’s fault. He and only he is to blame.” Anthea said and retreated a few steps.  
“Anthea is right, Sherlock. Please come down.” He held him a bit apart and looked into a pool of black. He had rarely seen something so sad and mournful.  
“You can come out now, Sir.” Anthea said and they carefully stepped outside.   
Mycroft looked around for Greg and Anthea pointed the way towards the living-room.  
“In there, Sir.” Mycroft just pulled Sherlock along not wanting to leave him behind.   
Sherlock looked around being completely shocked. The house was filled with debris, dirt and people. It was horrible. It smelled horrible.   
“Greg …” Sherlock choked out the one word and passed by Mycroft to get to him sooner. Greg was sitting on a stretcher and a paramedic was disinfecting his wound. And he was talking to him.  
“Sir, you need to go to hospital. This has to be x-rayed.” He sounded serious.  
“No, I need to see if they are OK.” Greg insisted and only then saw Sherlock standing in front of him.  
“Sherlock, are you alright?” He just nodded.  
“You are hurt …” Sherlock only whispered. Greg shrugged.  
“Well, yes. Another scar to be added to the ones I already had. It’s nothing serious. Don’t worry. You need to come down, do you hear me?” Only then he looked at Mycroft and reached out for him. At once he took his hand.  
“So do you, Myc. I am fine.” Mycroft’s eyes scanned over Greg’s body.  
“No, you aren’t but I can see what you mean. Please have the x-ray done as you are told. And please come back later. If you want to, I mean ... Anyway, please come back.” Greg smiled.  
“I certainly will.” And only then he rested and closed his eyes. The paramedics quickly carried him away before he could change his mind.  
“Sherlock, now me and you will be having a stiff drink.” He poured whiskey into two tumblers and handed one to Sherlock. He even took it and carefully sipped the alcohol. He became dizzy in minutes because he hadn’t been allowed to drink for ages.  
Mycroft placed him on the sofa and covered him with a blanket. Now he needed to find out if there were some captives who could be interrogated. He needed to know who was behind this or more who Dr Watson had been hiring to attack his home and his family.

***

John Watson had been watching the attack from the living-room of 221B. He had a bag ready and was prepared to leave in a hurry. Well, he actually had to leave in a hurry to escape Mycroft’s troops who wanted to get him and arrest him. But Sebastian was ready and picked him up just in time. Now John sat in a safe-house with Sebastian and roared out his anger.  
“Get me someone! I need someone! Or are you offering, Sebastian?” Even though John was way smaller than Moran, he hunched his shoulders because the dominant used all his powers to make him cower before him. He even wasn’t able to formulate a reply.  
Right then James Moriarty entered the room. At once he stepped up close to Sebastian.  
“Leave him be. He is mine.” Dangerous voice and very quiet, too. John glared at him.  
“Sebby, get into the car.” Sebastian left the house as fast as he could before he lost all of his dignity.  
“I’ll get you someone, so you can come down. We will talk tomorrow.” James told John who just nodded. He had no choice but to accept anyway and he knew it. So he just nodded and turned towards the bar.  
Moriarty looked at his back for a few seconds more but this seemed to be it. For the moment, he assumed. The camera-feed was online, so he was able to check what he was up to. On his way outside he called one of his henchman to get a prisoner for Dr Watson to play with. He told him to bring the subject here and stay as long as necessary and until he was done. The man knew what that meant and what he had to do. 

James wondered if he could use the video feed and create a snuff video, even sell it online. But it wouldn’t be worth the trouble Dr Watson would cause if he ever found out.  
Only after having arranged that he left the house. Outside he found Sebastian on the passenger-seat. He raised a brow but slid behind the wheel.  
Sebastian was of no use right now and Moriarty needed him in full combat-mode. He needed to be a super-dom now and take care of him. He sighed but only inwards. He knew he could do that. He liked Sebastian and he was rather glad he had found him.  
So he simply rode him home, took him inside and made him undress. He was shivering and stood in the bath like a rather tall ragged doll. James ordered him to take a shower and dress into something comfy. He needed to mollycoddle him a bit and he knew it.  
He would make the Holmes brothers pay for it.

***

Greg didn’t last very long in the hospital and was up as soon as possible. But he was stopped by the doctor.   
“I am supposed to give you this note. Please read it and act accordingly.” Then he disappeared and Greg raised a brow. He read the peace of paper and then just had to smile.

_“Please just wait where you are. I’ll pick you up.”  
Anthea._

And he did as being told. He appreciated being taken care of. He also wanted to be back rather badly. He needed to see Mycroft and he wanted to know how Sherlock was.  
So he kept sitting on the stretcher and only had to wait for a minute until she appeared still clad in black. His eyes roamed over her but she didn’t seem to be harmed.  
“I am fine, DI Lestrade. Let’s go and get you home then, shall we?” She turned around and led the way. He slowly followed her.  
“Are you capable of mind-reading, too?” He asked her back and he thought he heard her quietly laugh. She didn’t answer though.   
Outside she opened the car for him and he slid over the leather into the back. He buckled up and closed his eyes. He soon would be home.  
“What did you say?” Greg suddenly asked.  
“You heard me perfectly fine, DI Lestrade.” She smirked at him through the mirror.  
“You said home …” He had a soppy smile on his face and she just tilted her head and turned back around.  
Greg could barely wait until he got there. Home. Anthea had said home. He was beyond happy even though he still was in pain. He didn’t mind at all. He had protected his loved ones. Successfully so.  
Upon arrival she opened the car for him and he carefully climbed out. It was late afternoon again and the place was a mess. The street had been closed off and there was still military personal around. She led him up to the door and let him inside.  
“Thanks, Anthea.” He smiled a tired smile and she smiled back.  
“Never mind.” She replied and left.  
Greg slowly walked through and right into the living-room but no one was there. He listened and heard some vicious typing sounds. So Mycroft was in his office. He approached and knocked.  
“What?” He yelled from inside and Greg grinned.  
“It’s just me, love.” He entered and looked at him. Mycroft was still clad in his pyjamas but his face lightened up at once. He quickly stood and came up to him.  
“Greg, dear. No one told me you were coming now. I never would have yelled at you.” He gently touched him and then pulled him close.  
“I am glad I am back home.” Greg whispered against his neck. They stood there for several minutes until Greg asked after Sherlock.  
“How is he?” He looked at him and saw the worry in his eyes.  
“He is upstairs in bed. But I believe he isn’t asleep. He didn’t want to stay here or in the living-room with me. He still is in shock but he paramedic said he is fine. He left some medics but I didn’t want to drug him into sleep. Not him.”  
“Yes, you are right. Has he eaten?” Greg wondered.  
“A slice of toast. Right after the attack was over I gave him two stiff drinks and he was done in. He ate the toast a bit later but went upstairs right away with them.” Mycroft looked a bit helpless now.  
“I’ll go and have a look. I know you have loads of work to do. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.” Mycroft just kissed him and made him blush. Then he swayed upstairs.  
The door to Sherlock’s room wasn’t completely closed and Greg carefully knocked.  
“Come in, Greg.” Sherlock called out and Greg pushed the door open. He found Sherlock sitting up against the headrest with a toast in his hand. He looked hellish but he had looked worse before. His eyes roamed over Greg’s body.  
“I am fine. I was sent home. Don’t worry anymore, OK?” He smiled at him and sat on the bed by his side.  
“I am glad you are back relatively unharmed. I was so worried.” Sherlock’s eyes were still so large and shiny it broke Greg’s heart.  
“Don’t worry about me anymore, please.” Greg reassuringly smiled at him. Sherlock nibbled on the toast.  
“You need to eat more, Sherlock. I’ll cook anything for you, if you would just eat it.” Greg looked at him.  
“Perhaps you could cook pasta with a creamy cheese sauce and mushrooms?” He even straightened up a bit.  
“Whatever you want, I just told you. Tonight? Now?” Greg asked.  
“Soon.” Sherlock replied with a tad bit of his former cheekiness.  
“Very good.” Greg stood again and wanted to leave.  
“Greg?” Sherlock stopped him.  
“Yes?” He asked.  
“I saw you brought your guitar. Are you going to play?” Sherlock asked.  
“You want me to play my guitar for you?” He asked with a broad smile on his face. Sherlock blushed.  
“Yes?” He confirmed his plea very quietly, but Greg was happy he was asking anyway. But he had cast his eyes now.  
“I will happily do so!” Only then he left with fresh energy. He directly walked into the kitchen. There must have been a cleaning-staff because everything was pristine even the rest of the house wasn’t. The baths were probably shiny, too.  
Greg checked for the supplies he needed for Sherlock’s dinner. He wondered if Mycroft would like it, too, or if he wanted something else. He didn’t want to disturb him to ask just this but then suddenly a voice whispered directly by his ear.  
“You can ask me anything anytime, Gregory.” Greg jumped and panted. Then he turned around.  
“Fuck, Myc, you gave me a stroke!” He glared at him and Mycroft smirked.  
“And I would enjoy the pasta, too.” He smirked even more.  
“How are you doing this?” Greg wondered but just shrugged it off. He started to prepare their meal instead. Mycroft hovered by his side until Greg turned to him again.  
“Would you like to help?” He asked and Mycroft just left. Greg shook his head and worked in the kitchen until Sherlock appeared. And he was showered and dressed. He looked a bit better.  
“Do you need help?” He asked approaching slowly.  
“You could prepare the sauce if you like?” Greg wanted him to make the decision and it worked.  
“Yes, I could do that.” Sherlock looked over the assortment of cheese Greg had taken out of the fridge and changed two of them. Greg just let him.And he was proud that Sherlock dared to question his decision. He also took the mushrooms and fried them in a pan. He added the cream and slowly the cheese afterwards. It smelled delicious. He even found some herbs to spice everything up.  
Mycroft returned the moment it was served. Sherlock glared at him and he quickly sat down.  
“This smells delicious. Thanks to you two!” He looked at them and Sherlock smiled at him. Sherlock took half a plate full of pasta and sauce. He ate slowly but he ate. And he looked relaxed.   
Greg devoured two helpings as did Mycroft. Sherlock looked at him.  
“Did they leave your training-equipment unharmed? Because you will need it a lot.” Mycroft glared at him.  
“Do you remember the day when you woke up with your hair cut off?” And to Greg’s utter surprise Sherlock didn’t pale or look frightened. Instead he glared at his brother and then he scowled.  
Actually both brothers glared at each other and scowled. Greg found it rather amusing and endearing. He just kept eating. Nothing more was said about calories or haircuts.  
After their meal they all went into the living-room which had been cleaned by now, too. It still was a bit dusty and things were missing but it was fine to sit in again. Sherlock looked at Mycroft.  
“I asked Greg if he would play his guitar for me. Us. Would you like that, too?” Sherlock asked him.  
“Guitar?” Mycroft asked and it sounded very much surprised. He looked at Greg.  
“Oh, it’s only acoustic. I don’t need boxes. Don’t worry. I can play in Sherlock’s room if …” Greg offered at once but Mycroft shook his head very quickly.  
“No, please. I’d like you to play in here. No one ever … Never mind. Please play for us.” His smile was a bit shy and it surprised Greg to no end that a dominant could look the way Mycroft looked right now. But it made him happy that he wanted him to play.  
“I’ll go and get my guitar then, shall I?” He stood and walked upstairs.  
“I had no idea he was playing an instrument.” Mycroft said.  
“Neither had I. But I saw his guitar sitting in your bedroom. He must have brought it with him.” Sherlock told him.  
“Hopefully it’s not broken or damaged.” Mycroft mused.  
“Oh, I didn’t think of that!” Sherlock looked worried and both men waited for Greg to come back.  
It took him a few minutes because he made a detour to the bathroom but he finally came downstairs with his guitar.  
“What would you like to listen to?” He asked looking at both Mycroft and Sherlock.  
“Something slow, please?” Sherlock said and Mycroft just nodded.  
“I agree.” Both Mycroft and Sherlock expectantly sat down on the sofa while Greg got a barstool out of the kitchen to sit on. And then he started to play while the brothers sipped a drink.  
He played for over an hour and Sherlock looked in fact happy. Mycroft had closed his eyes and wasn’t able to name his feelings. It was too new. The only thing he knew was that this was special.  
“I asked if you liked it? Hello?” Greg’s voice was close and Sherlock sat up straight. His eyes slowly focused on Greg.  
“Your play was beautiful. I did not sleep!” He hadn’t even finished his drink. Mycroft’s eyes were shiny and he just smiled.   
“So you really liked it? You, too, Myc?” He asked still holding on to his guitar.  
“Yes, really.” Mycroft adoringly looked at him.  
“Next time you could sing, too.” Sherlock said.  
“Sherlock, you know I don’t do that anymore.” Sherlock smirked. Mycroft became curious.  
“You sing, as well?” He wanted to know.  
“No!” Greg almost barked out the word.  
“Yes!” Sherlock said at the same time.  
“You may serenade me in the bedroom, Gregory.” Mycroft smirked at him and Greg blushed. Even Sherlock smiled a small smile. But then he yawned and rubbed his eyes. He stood and looked at them.  
“I’ll retire. Thanks for playing. See you tomorrow. Good night.” He slowly walked into the kitchen to clean the tumbler.  
“Good night, Sherlock.” Mycroft called out after him and so did Greg. They looked at each other and only until they heard the door being closed upstairs they leaned towards each other and gently kissed.  
Soon enough Greg ended on his back beneath Mycroft whose hands roamed over his still dressed body. Greg hummed with pleasure and his cock grew steadily.  
“Let’s take this upstairs.” Mycroft suggested.  
“We have to be careful around Sherlock.” Greg said panting a bit.  
“You are right. Perhaps I should gag you.” Greg blushed and cast his eyes.  
“Too much?” Mycroft gently asked.  
“No, normally not. But the situation …” He slowly shook his head.  
“You are right, of course. I am greedy.” Mycroft worried his lips.  
“I feel the same. But we need to be patient. Let’s go to bed and simply be happy we have each other.” They kissed and stood. Upstairs Mycroft looked for his pyjamas while Greg stood in the bath brushing his teeth. He only wore his boxers when Mycroft entered. He stopped and stared at Greg’s wound.  
“God, I am so sorry …” Greg looked at him over the mirror.  
“Whatever for?” He asked leaning against the sink.  
“I pressed you down. It must have hurt. I didn’t mean …” He sadly shook his head.  
“Don’t worry. If I wouldn’t have liked it, I would have told you. I learned to do that.” For a second there was something nasty in his expression but it was gone the second it appeared.  
“I never want to hurt you. You know what I mean, don’t you?” Mycroft looked at him. Greg grinned.  
“I sure do. I know what I like and we will talk about it when Dr Watson is gone, has disappeared out of Sherlock’s life.” Greg reached out and moved his finger over his temple.  
“Very well. I placed a pyjama on the bed for you. I’ll be right with you.” They changed places and Greg wondered if he didn’t like him naked. Or was it a posh thing not to sleep in the nude?  
Anyway, he picked up the pyjama and found it was his size. Did he buy it for him only? It was nice though. He liked the colour and the material was fantastic. He quickly dressed into it and enjoyed the expensive fabric on his skin.  
Then he climbed into the bed and pulled up the blanket. This was obscenely comfortable and he rested against the headrest waiting for Mycroft. And when he came out of the bath and slowly approached the bed, he just stood there for a bit and they looked at each other.  
“Well, won’t you join me?” Greg asked with a smile.  
“I am so not used to this.” Mycroft shook his head and gingerly climbed into bed.  
“There are no rules, Myc. Relax.” Greg tried to sooth him and not to crowd him. But Mycroft was tense all over.  
“I don’t want to spoil this. Us.” He didn’t look at Greg and sat on his side straightening the blanket.  
“You won’t spoil anything, love. You are so very careful and tender with me. I might have been hurt a lot in the past but I got away. Now there is you and I love you very much. The moment everything is back to normal we will concentrate on each other, find out about our preferences, perhaps even make a contract. Whatever we need, we will do it.” Greg took Mycroft’s hand and kissed his knuckles. Gently and one after he other while looking into his eyes. Mycroft drowned in melting chocolate. He sighed and crept closer.  
Greg pressed a kiss on his messed up ginger hair. He had never met such a strange dominant in all his life. But he liked it. Him. A lot. He smiled and pressed him against his body.  
Mycroft slung his long arms around Greg and huddled against him. He didn’t care about being a dom right now. He just wanted to be close to Greg, as close as possible. He rubbed his long nose over his neck and up his throat, behind his ear and down his shoulder. He smelled so good.  
Greg quietly laughed. He obviously liked it since Mycroft was able to feel his prick against his thigh through two layers of pyjama fabric.  
“Let’s sleep now. We need to make plans for a proper revenge tomorrow.” Greg said and moved down on his back pulling Mycroft with him. Mycroft grunted but followed the move. He didn’t answer though.

***

Sherlock in the meantime felt extremely lonely. He was cold and heartbroken. He felt betrayed and hurt. He would never have what his brother and Greg had. What he thought he had with John Watson.  
He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to cry. But it hurt so much. He hid beneath the blanket and loudly sobbed under there not to wake the others. He cried himself to sleep.  
He woke up several times during the night because he was having nightmares but he didn’t call out. He had to learn to cope with it. Instead he dared and stood. He switched on the light and walked into the kitchen. He met several guards who quietly greeted him in the half-light but didn’t disturb him so far.  
He buttered two slices of toast and took a bottle of juice with him. He ate in bed and crumbled into the sheets. He knew how John had hated that and he crumbled some more. Then he fantasised about crumbling John's bones to dust. Slowly. Painfully. He very much wanted to hurt him. At least he wanted to watch while other people hurt him.  
He almost was a bit scared of himself. He never had such wishes, such rare emotions before. And he still wished just to be loved.


	8. Revenge

A rather large box had been delivered to Dr John Watson. He was supposed to take care of its content in the basement and he didn’t mind. All the toys and stuff were down there anyway. James Moriarty took good care of his house-guest. He didn’t want John Watson to go on a rampage.  
And his choice of thing to use had been just perfect, too. The boy was looking just like Sherlock, only years younger. John Watson didn’t care if this boy was of age or not. He just wanted to use him and probably kill him. He wanted to imagine that this was Sherlock.   
And he really wondered how long he would stand his tortures.  
Now John looked at him. He towered above him after he had kicked him into the corner of the room. He had ripped all his clothes off and was rather pleased with what he saw.  
The boy was scared to death and shook like a leaf in the wind. He hadn’t started to cry or even beg. Not yet.  
John smirked and shook out some lengths of rope.  
“Get up, you useless piece of shit.” The boy obeyed and swayed over. John turned him around and tied his wrists. He forced him back on his knees and forced his mouth open. His free hand took his cock and roughly shoved it between his lips. He knew he was thick and big and the boy wasn’t able to take him. His mouth tore at the edges and he groaned. John started to like it.  
He grabbed fistfuls of hair and pulled him close. His nose stuck into his pubic hair and he could hear him choke.   
“If you puke on my precious cock, you will regret it. And now swallow, scumbag!” He threatened and the boy really tried while John fucked him deep down his throat. Tears ran freely now and so did snot. Soon enough there was blood, too, and only then John shot his load down.   
The boy convulsed around him and milked him even more. He didn’t choke though. After he was done he pushed him down. Now he coughed and there was more blood. He probably had knocked some teeth loose. And he wanted to see. He stuck his finger into his mouth and poked around. The boy screamed and right he was. One tooth at the front was moving. He took it between his finger and stared into the boy’s eyes. They were wide with terror and he revelled in it. Then he pulled and ripped the tooth out. He held it between his fingers and stared at the white thing and its root. He pulled a face and just dropped it. The boy looked shocked to the bones while blood gushed out of his mouth.  
Right then John decided to get rid of all his upper front teeth to be able to fuck him much better and without the danger of being bitten. But not yet. Now he wanted to fuck his hole.   
He threw him over a leather padded bench and cuffed his ankles to hit. He also cuffed his wrists to the front so he hung with his head over and down. Blood dripped down on the concrete and he trembled. He was completely naked and John wanted to see more blood. He took a riding-crop, another thing that reminded him of Sherlock, and beat him from his shoulders down his back, over his arse and down his thighs and calves. He created welts, criss-crossed them and made them bleed.  
John was well aware of the fact that he was filmed by James Moriarty. He didn’t mind at all. They could use this film to teach every dom in England how it was supposed to be done.  
He used the blood to slick up his cock a bit. He wanted it smooth on his prick. When he was ready he grabbed his hips and lined up. One brutal push and he stuck inside. The boy screamed out and spit and blood dribbled out of his mouth forming bubbles of saliva on his lips. John was able to see that in the mirror opposite.  
“God, you are tight. You haven’t been fucked lately, have you? Have you ever? Whatever, I am fucking you now. Where does he find people like you? This is amazing!” John loudly groaned and his hands and fingers left dark bruises on the boy’s skin.  
He actually fucked him unconscious and then fucked him some more until he came for the second time. He plugged all his cum and the blood inside and let go. He was high as a kite and loved every second of it.  
But now he was hungry. And he wanted a shower. He blinked and looked around. The place was a mess. He was a mess.  
He swayed upstairs and into the bath. Afterwards he dressed into the gown he had found at the back of the door and walked into the living-room where he poured a whiskey. His mobile was on the table and it blinked. So there was a text. He sighed and picked it up. It was from James Moriarty.

_“You are a disgusting animal, Dr Watson. I loved every second. He is not dead yet, is he?”  
JM_

John smirked and typed a reply sitting in an armchair.

_“I take that as a compliment coming from you. And no, he isn’t dead yet.”  
JW_

He finished his whiskey and wondered if he could order take-away. He walked into the kitchen and looked around for menus. Then he opened the fridge and found enough stuff he could heat up.   
He prepared a pizza and also a protein-shake for the boy. He didn’t want him to starve. He needed energy to survive for a bit longer.  
John Watson devoured his pizza while he watched the news. The attack on the Holmes house was in it and the place looked wrecked. There were too many troops to try something too soon.   
John felt the urgent need to get back into the basement. But at first he finished the pizza. He also drank wine and another two whiskeys. Then he was ready to play some more.

***

Mycroft had entered Sherlock’s room to check on him and found him still asleep.   
“God, he must have cried himself to sleep. This is horrible and it has to stop.” He cast his eyes and quietly left the room again. Greg was still sleeping, too, so Mycroft went downstairs to brew some coffee and work a bit. They needed to find Dr Watson and make him pay. Only then Sherlock would be able to start a new life. He needed a fresh start, probably a new flat. And he wouldn’t be alone. He had support.  
Upstairs Greg woke about two hours later and found the place by his side cold and empty. He scowled. It was only 8 o’clock. When did Mycroft get up?  
Greg yawned and went to take a shower. He glared into the mirror while brushing his teeth. His shoulder hurt and he was happy that Mycroft had arranged his sick-leave. It was much longer now that it would have been without his interfering. Normally Greg would have scolded him for it but now he was happy.  
He dressed into a pair of denims and an old tee. Carefully he opened the door to Sherlock’s room. He stepped up to have a closer look. There were dried tears on his face and he looked horrible. Greg was so worried about him but what could he do?  
He very much wished that Sherlock found someone like he had. Someone caring and loving like Mycroft. He also knew that Sherlock would have trust issues forever and no one ever would probably be able to break through the walls.  
Sherlock made a choking sound and Greg looked at him. He moved his head over the pillow and now he even groaned a bit. Greg decided to carefully wake him and gently touched his arm.  
“Sherlock, wake up. You are having a nightmare. I am here and you are safe. Wake up!” He had to repeat himself several times until his eyes opened. His body was completely tense but the moment he recognised Greg he relaxed. He sat up slowly and slumped against the headrest.  
“I had a horrible nightmare …” His voice was rough and he cleared his throat. Greg handed him the bottle with water from his nightstand.  
“Drink this.” Sherlock drank half of it and felt much better.  
“Thanks, Greg. You are a saint.” He smiled looking up at him and he made Greg blush a bit.  
“Nonsense.” He shook his head. Then he seriously looked at Sherlock.  
“I know what you want, Greg. But I don’t think I can.”  
“But you should. It would ease the way for you.” Sherlock quietly snorted.  
“Which way? And leading where? There is only one way to end this.” Greg slowly nodded.  
“I know that. I bet your brother is working on it. In the meantime, you have to talk, at least you should try. You have already let out a bit but I would like to hear more. Perhaps in exchange I can tell you about my past and how I ended it. Only if you like.” Greg offered. He knew Sherlock was curious.  
“I’d like that. But you first. Bring breakfast and …” But Greg shook his head.  
“No. Let’s not do that in here. This is supposed a comfy zone, safe. Don’t talk about it in here. We will find a place in this house. Come on, get up and take a shower. I will prepare breakfast.” Sherlock agreed.  
“Very well. But I expect a proper English breakfast.” He smiled at Greg who just shook his head and left.  
Downstairs he looked around for Mycroft and found him in his already restored office. He offered breakfast but was denied.  
“I need some more time in here. Please talk to my brother and talk to me later.” He looked a bit stressed out already.  
“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll take my time with Sherlock. If you want to join, you can come find us. If you need anything, tell me. I’ll get you food. Whatever.” And he pecked a kiss on his head and left. Mycroft sighed and smiled. He was beyond happy.  
The moment Greg had arranged everything in a salon with a window leading out into the back garden Sherlock appeared. Greg turned around and raised a brow. Sherlock had dressed into a suit. It hung a bit wide on his very thin frame but he had made an effort to get back to normal.  
Sherlock returned his gaze and unconsciously moved his palms over the fabric. Greg smiled.  
“Looking good.” Sherlock returned the smile and relaxed. They sat down and Sherlock poured coffee. He even ate toast without being asked to. Greg ate a lot. These days he had the feeling that energy got sucked out of his bones and he needed a constant refill.  
Over another cup of coffee Sherlock started to talk.  
“I am dreaming of him.” He said. Greg leaned back into his chair.  
“What exactly?” Greg asked. Sherlock straightened the napkin on his lap.  
“I am dreaming of several scenes. Scenes he liked to do. They always included humiliating me, blood and lots of pain.” Sherlock didn’t look at Greg.  
“Do you dream, too?” He suddenly asked looking up. Greg swallowed.  
“I used to dream a lot after I ran away. It only got better after I started to work as a police-officer. Lucky me, I had friends I could talk to. The man I have been given to has never appeared again, had never asked after me or even looked for me.”  
“What did he do to you?” Sherlock dared asking. Now Greg had to clear his throat.  
“I was very young when my parents gave me to him. Today I am sure they sold me. Anyway, he gave me a room, he sent me to school, he bought me everything I needed. He only never let me have friends. I wasn’t allowed to invite people over or go to parties. I didn’t miss that at first since I really believed it was his right to do so.” Greg drank some more.  
“He prepared me quite well and everything started for real when I was of age. He took me every day for years. He made me do things I had never heard of before. And I did everything for him because I thought it was the correct thing to do; just follow his orders.” Now he buttered another toast.  
“I know about being force-fed, I wore diapers and pacifiers, I lived in a cage. Later he rented me out, showed me off in clubs or private parties or tied me to a tree outside while being on holiday in the countryside where no one was able to see. He even drugged me with special pills or stuff so I wouldn’t be able to walk or scream. Or both.” Sherlock was shocked to the bone.  
“How could you ever make it out? How were you able to make that decision to run away? What happened?” Greg laughed quietly.  
“It just clicked in my head when I found a newspaper in my cage. He had placed it on the ground like you would do for an animal. And I read the paper. There was a story about romance between subs and doms. And it was all different. I found he was wrong; he was treating me wrong. And that was it. From then on I had to wait until the next scene would start without me living in a cage. The time would always come. And when it had, I stole a drug and put it into his drink. He fell over, I stole his money and credit card, packed a bag and took off.” Greg shrugged.  
“You are a very strong person, Greg. I admire that. I never could have done that.” Sherlock said.  
“You weren’t able to act like I did because at the beginning you really loved him. You didn’t want to lose him. I never loved him. I never had feelings for him.” Greg stopped finally eating but poured more coffee.  
“Did he ever give you pleasure?” Sherlock asked and Greg shook his head.  
“No, I had no idea. It was only later I found out about pleasure. I had many short relationships where I experienced many nice things. And now there is your brother.” Greg blushed and Sherlock smiled.  
“He is a good man, Greg. He also is a very lonely man. He never had someone. Like me. Until I found him.” He started to cry again but this time absolutely quiet. Greg handed over the tissue-box.  
“He lured you in. He betrayed you. And he badly hurt you. You deserve so much better, Sherlock.” He reached out for him and took his hand. Sherlock let him.  
“I have been bloody stupid …” Sherlock suddenly said sounding very, very angry.  
“You thought you were in love. You were an inexperienced sub. You didn’t want to lose him.”  
“He scared me to hell and back. I hate him very much.” He had grabbed the knife and his long and bony fingers held it tight. Suddenly he lifted his hand and rammed the knife into the wood.  
“And I want him dead!” He screamed.

***

John took the drink for the boy and went back into the basement. The boy was awake again and weakly stared up at him. John wondered how long he would make it meaning how long he would be able to use him. He hoped he would make it a bit longer because he actually doubted Moriarty would provide him with a fresh one.  
“I brought you some food. I advise being thankful.” The boy croaked out his thanks and looked at the plastic mug.   
“Open up, bitch.” John said and started to tilt the mug. The boy stretched his body and twitched a bit in his restraints but finally made it under the mug. Some spilled on his face but most of it ended up inside his mouth. He kept swallowing. It must hurt him, both his throat and his teeth and gum because it was cold and sugary.  
John resisted the urge to face-fuck him because he just knew he would throw up. That’s why he untied him and instead cuffed him with his hands over the head to a chain hanging from the ceiling. A spreader bar parted his legs. John put a cage with thorns inside around his cock but left the head. He inserted a rod a bit too thick into his urethrae and he whimpered. John shoved it rudely in and out several times to increase the pain and it worked perfectly. When he thought it enough he put a stopper on top, so the rod wouldn’t completely disappear inside his prick. John was very aroused again.  
He licked his lips and wound a thin rope around his balls dividing them in the middle. He pulled it tight and watched his body twitch. He quietly groaned and shook all over.  
John whistled a tune while circling his body and thinking about his next step. His eyes fell on the plug that still stuck in his arse. It could be connected to electric devices. John looked around and finally found the box on a shelf. He grinned and took the provided cable to set up the connection. He stood behind the boy and fiddled with the buttons and switches.  
He wildly pushed on the device until the boy screamed himself hoarse. John laughed. This was great. He needed this to use it on Sherlock.  
Sherlock!   
How long would it take James Moriarty to get to him? He barely was able to wait.  
He pressed the button down and kept holding it. Now the boy screamed and shook like a mad man. John placed the box back and the boy kept shaking and trembling for a good while. John watched him and had a great time.  
He took the cable away and lowered him down to his knees. He forced his mouth open and had a closer look at his gum. It looked terrible.  
The boy started to whine and beg for mercy. John just grabbed him and shoved his thick and throbbing cock into his mouth. At once the bleeding started again and the boy’s eyes turned back into his head.  
John came deep down his throat and just had to wait for a few minutes until he was able to go again. He was so aroused just by thinking about doing all this to Sherlock, he had no problems getting it up.  
Only with Sherlock he needed to be a bit more careful. He wanted to keep him for a very long time. He had to hold out much longer than this one. Having studied medicine would prove quite useful in that case.  
He threw the boy to the ground and grabbed his bony hips. He just pushed into him until he came. The moment he came he placed his hands around his neck and pressed. His arms flayed around and the noises were angelic to his ears. He listened for as long as possible until he deemed him ready and finally broke his neck.  
He was done with this one. He wanted a fresh one. He needed to experiment some more. James Moriarty would have to provide another one. It shouldn’t be a problem for him, John thought.  
“I won’t do this to you, Sherlock. There won’t be mercy for you. Only terror and pain. Loads of.” He darkly murmured the words and walked back upstairs.

***

“I wonder why you are still alive, Sebby.” James Moriarty said to his lover who rested against the headrest drinking red wine. Both men had watched the video feeds of Dr John Watson.   
Sebastian had recovered after two days and was back to his normal self. He still felt ashamed about his reaction but James Moriarty hadn’t taken it too badly. Instead he had taken care of him and Sebastian was forever grateful.  
“He lashed out but never hurt me like that. He must hate Sherlock a lot.” He sounded thoughtful. James Moriarty slowly turned his head and looked at him.  
“You believe it’s not right to give him what he wants? He has paid us already for bringing him Sherlock Holmes.” Moriarty stated. Sebastian swallowed but looked into his eyes.  
“He has gone mad, Jim.” Sebastian seriously said. Moriarty raised a brow.  
“People consider me mad, too.” He replied.  
“Maybe they are right. But it’s not the same. And you know what I mean.” Sebastian insisted and James nodded.  
“Yes, I do. But I would like you to enlighten me anyway. So?” He topped up their glasses.  
“You are mad, there is no way denying it. You kill and torture for fun, as well. I know that. I help you with it and I like it, too. But still we are different. We are doing it for our living. John Watson is simply evil and he wants to keep Sherlock and torture him for eternity.” Sebastian sighed and looked a bit helpless.  
“How adorably poetic, Seb. But I know what you are trying to say. By the way, I love you, too.” He smirked.  
“Jim …” Sebastian was melting and leaned over to kiss him.   
“Huh …” James grunted into his mouth and moved away.  
“I have to get on the phone to get rid of his mess. I wonder if we should kill him.” James mused.  
“Why don’t we hand him over?” Sebastian suggested.  
“To Mycroft Holmes? Are you insane?” James asked.  
“Yes. And no. What I mean is telling John he has to change houses. Then tell Mycroft about the route. And finally let him go.” Sebastian shrugged. James Moriarty looked at him rather thoughtful.  
“Well, yes, you are probably right. Let me up. I have work to do.” He rushed out of bed and disappeared into his office.  
Sebastian sadly looked at his back but didn’t follow. He knew he wasn’t able to help. He took his paperback out of his nightstand, stuffed a pillow under his head and started to read. He also finished his wine. He knew James wouldn’t be back, so finally he switched off the light and went to sleep.  
In the meantime, James Moriarty was busy. He agreed with Sebastian, Dr Watson had to disappear. So at first he arranged a pick-up for tomorrow around noon. He sent a text to John Watson to be ready then. Then he stared for long minutes at his mobile until he finally chose Mycroft from his contacts. He picked up after the third ring.

***

Mycroft had worked for hours. Tons of documents had piled up, both on his desk and digitally. By now he was exhausted and it wasn’t even 10 o’clock. He rubbed over his tired face. He needed coffee.   
He was halfway up when his mobile rang. He raised his brow and picked it up. Then he stared at the display.  
“Bloody hell!” He muttered but answered.  
“Yes?” He said no more.   
“And a good day to you, too, Mr Holmes!” The cheery voice with the Irish accent said.  
“Forgive me. What I meant to say was: What a pleasant surprise, Mr Moriarty. How can the British government be of assistance?” The smirk was audible and Moriarty giggled.  
“It’s more how can I help the Holmes household. I am offering you Dr John Watson.” Mycroft sat down again.  
“You have just tried to bomb my brother out of my house for him. Why did you change your opinion? You normally never betray your customers.” Mycroft stated.  
“That’s right. But certain circumstances made me decide it’s better like that. So, would you like the deal or not?” Moriarty asked.  
“What do you want in return?” Mycroft asked.  
“I want peace and quiet for a bit. No secret agents on my heels because of the attack. I will pay for it. Let me know the amount and I will repay you, replace your stuff and everything you want.”  
“This is weird and I can’t trust you. But deal. Absolutely. Deal.” Mycroft said.  
“Deal it is. Text me the things and the amount. I’ll text you the route he will take and when. So be ready.” Moriarty said and hung up.  
“Good-bye, Mr Moriarty.” Mycroft murmured and gently placed his mobile on the desk. He had to wait for exactly two minutes, then there was a map popping up as well as some other details. He forwarded everything to Anthea and pulled back the troops from Moriarty. He also ordered CCTV being focused on the point of attack of Dr Watson.  
It still was two hours to go. Now he really needed coffee.

***

Mycroft just poured his coffee when Sherlock yelled the words and rammed the knife into the table. He dropped the mug and hurried into the salon. He found Sherlock all angry and Greg grinning broadly.  
“What happened?” Mycroft stared at both of them.  
“I want him dead!” Sherlock repeated his words from before only a bit quieter.  
“It’s good you have let it out. It will help.” Greg added.  
“God, I dropped my coffee.” Mycroft muttered and walked away to get a fresh one.  
“Milk, two sugars, please.” Sherlock called after him. Now Greg really looked surprised.  
“I know that, brother-dearest.” Mycroft called over his shoulder. Greg didn’t dare order a coffee like that and said nothing. He was very open with Mycroft as his dom but not that open.  
But Mycroft returned bringing three mugs with him.  
“There you are.” He shoved one over to Sherlock who silently thanked him. Greg looked very surprised.  
“Thanks, love.” He smiled and had blushed, too.  
“I know how you drink your coffee, Gregory. I also know you wouldn’t have asked me.” He smiled at him. Greg cast his eyes.  
“I feel really good now. Gods, I should have gone on a rampage earlier.” Sherlock said.  
“I might just be able to assist, Sherlock.” Mycroft looked him into the eyes. Sherlock stared back and at once understood what he meant.  
“How did you arrange that?” He asked.  
“I got a call and was offered assistance.” Mycroft replied.  
“Who called?” Sherlock wanted to know.  
“James Moriarty himself.” Mycroft leaned back into his chair.  
“Excuse me? You are not taking him seriously, are you?” Greg wanted to know.  
“I sure do. He offered me John Watson as a gift in exchange for his freedom. I thought it was worth it.” Mycroft shrugged.  
“I should never have heard that. I am with the bloody police, Myc.” Greg was angry.  
“I didn’t mean to make you angry, Gregory. I just wanted to do the best for the family.” Mycroft looked very worried now. Sherlock looked between them.  
“Greg, please? Don’t be angry with Myc. Be angry with me instead. It’s my entire fault anyway.” He pleadingly looked at him. Greg breathed through his nose several times.  
“I am not angry. I am just a little bit upset. I have no idea how to deal with this.” He shook his head.  
“You don’t have to deal with anything. That’s what I do.” Mycroft said.  
“But I can’t just deny what I have heard. And if I want to have a clean conscience, I can’t be around you when something like that is going on.” Greg tried to explain.  
“Please don’t leave him. Me. Us. Just please?” Sherlock almost shrieked out the words and grabbed Greg’s arm.  
“I am not leaving anyone, Sherlock. Stop worrying, OK?” Greg answered.  
“But you have just said …” Sherlock tried to talk back.  
“I said I can’t be around you. I didn’t say I would leave the house. I can go upstairs while things get arranged. You can’t talk to me about it. Do you understand what I am saying? Myc? Sherlock?” He looked at them.  
“Since I am not deaf I do understand what you said, Gregory.” Mycroft sounded a bit pissed now. Sherlock still looked worried.  
“Just be with me, Greg, while Mycroft takes care of everything. Is that OK? Just don’t go upstairs and leave me behind now. Please?” Sherlock begged him.  
“I will do just so. We will talk some more.” Greg looked at Mycroft raising a brow.  
“I will go back into my office.” He stood and left without anything more. Greg looked at his retreating form and sighed. They urgently needed to talk but not now. Later tonight after whatever would be happening today will have happened.  
Greg turned his full attention back on Sherlock.  
“I believe it’s your turn now. Do you need anything before we start?” Greg asked.  
“Perhaps some water?” Sherlock said and Greg stood to get it. Sherlock was grateful he was taken care of.  
Greg brought two bottles of water with two glasses. They changed over onto a sofa. Sherlock moved deep into the cushions and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Only then he started to talk.  
“You haven’t seen my body, Greg. It’s covered in scars, old and new. He hit me too many times and they never properly healed. He never broke my bones though. No hospitals for me. He took care of everything else meaning he stitched me up once and again. He liked to choke me while fucking me. The world went black quite often and I welcomed it. He also pushed my head beneath the water in the tub. From there it wasn’t a long way to water-boarding.” He filled a glass with water and his hands were shaking again. Greg already looked shocked but didn’t interrupt him or even stopped him.   
Sherlock needed to talk and he had to listen.  
“I wasn’t allowed to dress inside the flat. He made me kneel by his side. He fed me most of the times. Normally I got my meals in my dog-bowl. It even had my name on it. But sometimes I didn’t get anything at all.” Sherlock drank some more.  
“He took everything away from me. My work, my violin, my money both cash and cards as well as my skull. I wasn’t allowed to use him as a soundboard, he didn’t want me to play for him. The only thing I was supposed to do was to be ready for him whenever he wanted and do everything, obey his every whim.” Sherlock swallowed and his eyes filled with tears. Greg reached out and took his hand.  
“I cleaned the flat, I went shopping, I brought his clothes to the dry-cleaner or washed and ironed them myself. I cooked and served him his breakfast, lunch and dinner as well as snacks in between. I did everything. Everything.” Now the tears spilled over and he sobbed. Greg kept holding his hand and didn’t say anything. He waited for more.   
“Sometimes he made me drink loads of fluids and gave me mushy things to eat. He added a laxative most of the times. He dressed me into diapers and let me drink my urine. I pissed into a hose leading into a plastic bag leading back up into my mouth through a muzzle. The circle took as long as he let me stay like that. Sometimes he just went away to work and left me on the kitchen-tiles. I froze, I was always so cold. I was naked. I …” His voice broke and he shook.   
Greg found his hand very cold all of a sudden.  
“Would you like a tea or chocolate?” He asked and Sherlock just nodded. Greg stood and placed the tissue-box on the table. Then he left for the kitchen. He leaned on the sink and closed his eyes while the water started to boil.  
Suddenly there were arms around his waist.  
“Gregory, I am sorry.” Greg just turned around and fled into his arms.   
“It’s so horrible. Forget what I said earlier. Just make it happen. Make him disappear.” He spoke against his neck.  
“Everything has been arranged. I will tell you later tonight. But only if you want to hear it.” Mycroft gently murmured the words against Greg’s hair. Then he even pecked a kiss on his head. Greg sighed and smiled. Mycroft could feel the move of his lips.  
“I need to know that he is gone. Forever. So you have to tell me. I think you have to tell Sherlock, too. But later. Not now. He is too upset to even hear his name.” Greg roughly exhaled and straightened up.  
“I promised your brother something hot to drink.” He said and made hot chocolate for both of them. He even made cream to top it up. And when he saw Mycroft lick his lips he made another one.  
“There you are. Now go and rule the Empire.” Mycroft had the decency to blush but went away looking very happy. Greg carried the cocoa back to Sherlock and found him looking a bit better.  
“Oh …” He said staring at the mug. And then he took the teaspoon Greg had brought and ate the cream. Greg was happy it made him feel better.  
“Glad you like it.” He smiled and drank his own chocolate.  
“I haven’t had such a treat for ages.” Sherlock thoughtfully said.  
“Well, that’s over now. You can have whatever you want. You need to gain weight, Sherlock. You are malnourished. As hard as it sounds but it’s true. We have to feed you up. And you may tell us whatever you want, I will cook it or Mycroft will order it.” Greg said.  
“Yes, I know. I am actually hungry most of the times. Only sometimes when I remember certain things it’s like my throat shrinks or something. I can’t really find the words. Or I feel like throwing up.” He helplessly looked at Greg.  
“Whenever whatever, Sherlock. It doesn’t matter.”  
“I thought about having a look at my blog. Do you think there is a computer for me somewhere?” Sherlock asked.  
“I am not sure and I don’t want to disturb your brother right now. You can use mine. Hold on, I’ll go upstairs and get it.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Thanks, Greg.” Greg retrieved his computer from its bag and carried the thing downstairs.  
“There you are. Feel free to use it but don’t hack into my Yard files.” Greg looked serious.  
“I appreciate it. I just wanted to have a look at my blog. See what came in. Delete John’s blog.” Now there even was a wicked smile on his face. Greg didn’t like it at all. But it was understandable, he thought. He just hoped Sherlock’s mood would change again. He never had been wicked or mean or evil.  
“You do that. I’ll be over there and read, if that’s OK with you.” Sherlock looked up again.  
“Of course it is. I am glad I am not alone.” Greg smiled back. He took his paperback and slumped into the sofa. Five minutes later he was fast asleep.   
Sherlock noticed his breathing pattern and looked over his shoulder. He stood up and slowly walked over. Then he smiled and carefully placed the blanket hanging over the back of the sofa over his body.

***

John had sighed when reading Moriarty’s text. Obviously this place wasn’t safe anymore and he had to move again. He didn’t mind as long as he would get another toy to play with.  
He wasn’t suspicious at all because he trusted James Moriarty. He had paid him well and he expected to be helped with everything. That’s why he left the house when being picked up without problems. Somehow he had hoped to see Sebastian again but Moriarty was probably still pissed because of what John had done to him.  
The man who had picked him up and drove the car was a dom himself. Obviously Jim didn’t want to risk another sub with him. John grinned. He didn’t mind. The main thing was that he was being safe and had some more fun.  
It was a fancy car that had a dividing screen and a bar. John took the offer and poured a drink. The alcohol calmed him down at once. Perhaps it calmed him down a bit too much.   
“Damn him …” John groaned and tore his eyes open. He was barely able to move. He noticed the car stopping and tried to see what was going on. The door was opened and someone grabbed him. His arms flayed around but he had no chance. He was pulled out of the car and moved over to another. This time he was thrown inside the trunk and the lid was closed. It became dark and he couldn’t move a bit.

***

Moriarty’s driver texted him that John Watson had been taken from the car and that he had been left alone. Jim was very pleased and now waited for a text from Mycroft Holmes.  
It didn’t take long.

***

Mycroft stared at his computer where the CCTV transmitted all the events. A wicked smile was on his face when he saw John Watson being pulled out of Moriarty’s car and into the car that belonged to his somehow private army.  
They would drive him to Baskerville. No one could escape from there. The cells were hundreds of metres down in the ground and secured like nothing else in the world.  
Mycroft waited until he could be sure everything was taken care of. And every one. Only then he texted Moriarty.

_“I am very pleased. Deal is granted. Attached is list with destroyed things.”  
MH_

He hit _send_ and was curious what was happening next.

_“So am I. He is a danger to society, both criminal and nice. Your list is taken care of. Personally. Attached is video of what Dr Watson did.”  
JM_

Mycroft raised a brow. He wondered if he would be daring enough to click the link. But finally he did. He stared at everything, watched everything and then sat down. He was sick to the bones and pale as a ghost. He saw Sherlock in his mind and only now really knew how close he had been to death.   
Dr Watson was a monster and he had done right to have taken him away.

_“I don’t want your money. I want your payment in creative ideas on torture and such. Heard you were the right one to talk to.”  
MH_

He didn’t have to think long about sending this text. He was willing to take the risk of being blackmailed later. He would take care of that later then.

_“You heard right. I’ll happily oblige. No future blackmailing. It’s on the house.”  
JM_

Mycroft grinned and relaxed. He even was a bit excited about what he would be receiving. Plus, he knew for sure that he would be present in Baskerville.  
He wondered if he should take Sherlock along with him.

***

Dr John Watson slowly woke. He blinked his eyes open but stayed completely still. He wasn’t able to hear a single thing. There were no voices or other sounds. He had no idea where he was or who had taken him.  
He carefully tried to move and found he wasn’t restrained. He carefully sat up and looked around. He obviously was in a cell. The bed was a narrow thing and only provided a thin blanket and even thinner pillow. The walls were a dirty white. There wasn’t a window and the door was some sort of steel. The lamp was high up in the ceiling and even if he would be able to jump that high or climb on something there was nothing to break because it had thin bars all over. The door had a peep-hole and there was no handle on his side. There was an opening though where probably the food would be shoved through.  
John sighed. This was a total fucked up situation. And he knew exactly whose fault this was. Sherlock’s! Always that damned brat. But what could he do about it? Right now, nothing.  
The only thing he did was writing James fucking Moriarty on his personal revenge list. He had betrayed him. Him! He had paid a hell lot of money to get away and get Sherlock back. And this son of a bitch changed sides.  
But John had a back-up plan. Of course he had. Carefully his tongue poked on his left molar. The filling was still intact. They hadn’t found it. Good. Brilliant even. For him.  
He kept sitting on the bed and waited. They had taken his watch away but he estimated that several hours had passed since he had woken up. Suddenly the opening in the door was moved and a tray was shoved inside. There were no hands and the door slid closed in a second.  
He shrugged and picked up the tray. He looked at the offering. It was a paper cup with water. A slice of bread and cheese and an apple. He would be hungry soon enough. His hate grew steadily. But he ate everything anyway.  
He had hoped for cutlery but not even plastic or wooden things were on the plate. He would have to poke at his filling with his finger.  
He asked himself if he should wait until they took him for a questioning. Then he wondered if there would be a questioning or more a beating. He thought the last one was making more sense. Sherlock and his bloody brother would want some sort of revenge.

So did he.

After having finished his meagre meal he lay down on his bed. He rolled on his side and started to poke into his filling. The dentist had left a tiny piece that stuck out where he could start poking and it worked perfectly. The top of his molar opened and the ring fell out. The ring actually was an ampule being filled with a deadly poison.  
Very carefully Dr Watson manoeuvred the ring towards his lips. His eyes were closed and he pretended to be asleep. He moved his arms in a suitable position to cover his mouth and gently pushed the ring out and onto the pillow.  
He sighed and moved a bit about as if being fast asleep. The ampule disappeared beneath his palm. Now he waited to be picked up.

***

Mycroft didn’t wait for Moriarty’s suggestions of pain and torture. He even left his mobile in his office. He felt the urge to see Gregory. No, that was wrong. He needed to touch him, kiss him. He wondered if it was inappropriate in front of Sherlock.  
He slowly entered the salon. He heard someone type and thought it was Greg. But it was Sherlock sitting in front of a laptop and Gregory was sleeping on the sofa.  
Sherlock turned around and smiled up at him. Then he even waved him closer pointing at the screen.  
“Look, Myc!” He even seemed excited. Mycroft wondered what he had done or seen. But he obediently moved up to him and lowered his head to read.  
He read and stared at the screen for several minutes while Sherlock became a bit scared. What if his brother didn’t approve? Had he been acting wrong? What were the consequences? He swallowed and dared looking up at him.  
“Are you sure?” Mycroft seriously asked. He didn’t look angry though. Sherlock considered his answer.  
“Yes, I am. I want it. I want to work again. I need the work back.” Mycroft smiled. He was very proud of his brother who was able to articulate his wants and wishes for the first time after months and months of repression.  
“Then you do it.” Mycroft just said and a smile came up on Sherlock’s face that in return lightened up Mycroft’s face.  
“So you approve?” Sherlock whispered almost sounding shocked. Mycroft shrugged.  
“Even if I didn’t, it won’t matter. You do what you want. It’s all fine.” He moved his fingers through his hair. He even put a single strand of his longish hair behind his ear. Sherlock closed his eyes. He barely remembered times when fingers in his hair didn’t mean pain.  
Sherlock had set up his site again. He was taking cases again. He had found several mails that never had been replied to because John hadn’t allowed him access to his own site. But now he was back. He had posted the news and was waiting for reactions. Sherlock was very excited and it showed.  
“You know what I also want to do?” He asked looking up at his older brother.  
“What else do you want to do? Do you need my help?” Mycroft asked.  
“No, I don’t think so. I just want to delete John’s blog. I want it to disappear. Just as I want him to disappear.” Sherlock slanted his eyes and again the wicked expression was on his face. Mycroft grinned. He wasn’t shocked like Greg had been.  
“Then do it. Perhaps you need a computer with a tad bit more power? This is Greg’s isn’t it? Go into my office and use mine.” Sherlock looked surprised.  
“Really? You never let me use your stuff!” He said but powered down and closed Greg’s laptop.  
“I never let you use my stuff because you always broke it or did something a bit not good with it.” Mycroft replied.  
“And now I do?” Sherlock asked raising a brow.  
“Yes, now you do and I approve of it.” Mycroft grinned a very dangerous grin. Sherlock slowly stood.  
“I promise not to sneak too much.” He quickly walked away. Mycroft shook his head and stepped up to Greg who was still sleeping on the sofa.   
Mycroft looked at him and smiled. He was extremely besotted and it showed. Greg was so beautiful. His skin was a bit tanned and his hair was a mess. But he looked relaxed in his sleep.   
Mycroft only realised that he was staring at Greg’s open eyes when he blinked. He furiously blushed and it made Greg smile.  
“You have been staring at me. Was I drooling? Was I behaving embarrassing?” He made a face and sat up rubbing over his eyes.  
Mycroft moved up close and reached out for him. His palm was flat on the side of his head.  
“I have been staring at you because you are so beautiful, Gregory.” Now it was Greg’s turn to blush furiously.  
“I am sweaty, probably smelly, looking like the most tired copper ever and my hair is a mess …” He said.  
“You are beautiful.” Mycroft smiled repeating his words and stroked over his hair trying to flatten it.  
“And so are you.” Suddenly his stomach rumbled and he pulled a face.  
“God, how long did I sleep?” He looked at his watch and then looked at the armchair Sherlock had been sitting in.  
“Where is your brother?” He asked standing up quickly.  
“He is working in my office. I gave him access to my computer. Yours was too slow.” Mycroft replied.  
“Working? Working what?” Greg asked rubbing over his stomach.  
“He updated his site. He wants to be back to work. He checked his mails. He is in a very good mood.” Mycroft smiled.  
“Sounds good to me.” He looked a bit sheepishly at Mycroft.  
“Listen, I’ll go upstairs and take a shower. I feel awful. Afterwards I will cook for us. That OK with you?” He asked.  
“Sounds perfect except for the part where you shower alone. I will join you.” Mycroft dared saying.  
“What?” Greg gaped and Mycroft cast his eyes.  
“Not good?” He quietly asked.  
“Very good.” Greg answered and pulled him along and upstairs into Mycroft’s bedroom. The moment Greg had set foot inside he started to undress and just dropped his clothes on the floor. Mycroft watched him being a bit shocked. Then he tried to get around him to reach his walk-in-wardrobe.  
“Come here, you.” Greg said and held him back. Mycroft looked irritated.  
“But I need to undress. I wanted to shower with you.” He said and it made Greg smile.  
“God, how can a dom be so cute?” Greg asked and shook his head. Mycroft didn’t know what to say.  
“I am going to undress you. I will drop your posh fabric on the floor on top of mine. Then we will shower and you can shampoo my hair.” Mycroft still didn’t know what to say and just stared at Gregory.  
Greg stared back and only now realised that something was wrong.  
“What is it, love?” He quietly asked pulling him close.  
“I have to hang up my suit. I can’t have a wrinkly suit.” Mycroft said. For a second Greg didn’t know what to do but then he just let go and turned around laughing. He was still giggling when turning the water on.  
Mycroft didn’t know why he was laughing but he liked the sound of it. So he undressed rather quickly and stored everything away where it belonged. He tried not to look into the mirror when being finally naked. Instead he snatched his silken dressing-gown. He only walked into the bath after having put his slippers on.  
For a few seconds he admired Greg’s body beneath the water. It was wonderful. He waited until the room was nicely fogged and only then shed his gown and left his slippers in front of the shower-stall joining him.  
“There you are.” Greg looked at him and his eyes moved over his body. Mycroft shifted on his feet and wasn’t able to suppress the motion. But Greg just adoringly smiled at him and handed over the shampoo.  
“Please?” He said and made puppy eyes. Mycroft melted and quickly fetched the fancy bottle. He massaged it into Greg’s hair moving his fingertips over his scalp. Now Greg closed his eyes and relaxed beneath his hands and fingers. Mycroft thought he might have heard a faint moaning.  
He also rubbed some foam over his body and didn’t leave out a single part of it. Greg enjoyed every second but almost jumped out of the stall when he felt something warm mouth engulf his prick.  
“Oh God!” He cried out and looked down at Mycroft who knelt on the heated tiles in front of him. His lips were closed around his cock and his cheeks were hollowed while he sucked. His head moved and finally his nose touched Greg’s pubic hair.   
He leaned against the tiles and panted. His knees were shaking. No one ever had done this for him. He was a sub, he had to perform this act, not the other way around. Now almost panic took a hold of him but Mycroft pressed him against the tiles and didn’t allow him to pull out.  
His grey-blue eyes pierced through his warm brown like butter and Greg was caught and helpless.  
“Myc, I, I am, I can’t, oh God …” He became louder and Mycroft increased his administrations. When Greg’s knees almost gave in he held him by the hips pressing him back. He was surprisingly strong or so Greg thought foggily.  
The moment Mycroft gently used his teeth on him he lost it. He yelled loudly and came. He was too shocked to do anything else but stand there and let go. He still stared at Mycroft who swallowed everything down.  
Everything became a bit too much and Greg’s head fell against the tiles with an audible thump. He closed his eyes panting heavily.  
He felt Mycroft still holding him up. He also felt him standing up. And then he kissed him. Greg tilted his head and opened his mouth to let him in. He tasted himself on Mycroft’s tongue and it felt both sexy and forbidden. Because this was his dom.   
Bloody hell!  
Finally, Mycroft broke the kiss and looked at him. Greg licked his lips.  
“You are the most amazing man, dom, I have ever met. You are brilliant. What you did for me, no one ever has done it. I had no idea. It was wonderful. I …” He realised he was babbling and blushed.   
But Mycroft looked almost relieved as if he had been wondering about everything. Perhaps he thought he hadn’t been good enough?  
“I assume you liked it then?” He quietly asked.  
“Do you really have to ask?” Greg replied and Mycroft cast his eyes. So Greg had been right. For him it had been brazen to perform this act and Greg gently smiled at him. He was so happy. But he also needed to be on the safe side.  
“Listen, Myc, we need to talk. I think we have reached the point where we can leave Sherlock alone for a bit.”  
“What do you want to talk about? Is there anything bothering you?” Mycroft carefully asked.  
“No, it’s just that we need to make a contract. I need to have a safe-word. We need to find out what we want. Me as your sub and you as my dom.” Greg looked serious.  
“I have never had such a talk or even a contract. It’s tedious. You are not a country I have to negotiate a peace treaty with. You are my sub, yes, and I love you. End of it.” He looked helpless now.  
“It’s for both our safety. Please, Myc, I need this. For me? I know you would never hurt me on purpose like the others did but I need to see it in writing, being put into an official document. Do you understand?” He reached out but now Mycroft stepped out of the shower-stall. He snatched his dressing-gown without using a towel first and quickly put his slippers on. He looked over his shoulder.  
“No, Gregory, I actually don’t.” And gone he was.  
Greg almost slipped on the wet tiles when trying to hurry after him naked but he was too slow.  
“Myc? Please wait! Don’t do this!” He called out but only heard the door being closed. Where was he going? And what had he done wrong? He didn’t understand his reaction, he really didn’t.

***

John Watson knew he had to take the risk and attack before he was being brought in for questioning. Hell, he had no idea if there would be a questioning or if he would be eliminated when all the parties were present. The parties who wanted to watch.  
He needed to find his way out. He assumed he was somewhere in Baskerville. He knew this place. He knew where to hide and he knew where to go. He even knew to whom he could turn.   
He kept his face straight and pretended to be still asleep. Beneath his hand was the ring. His precious ring. It became harder to supress his giggles. Perhaps he was going mental?  
Anyway, he would have to wait a bit longer. That was what he assumed but he got surprised. Suddenly the door was pushed open and a soldier stood inside his cell.  
“Get up, Captain Watson. Someone wants to talk to you.” John kept hiding the ring and stood at attention even though his rank was higher.  
“Yes, Sir!” He didn’t salute him though. It might have been a bit too much. The moment he passed by he shifted the metal of his ring and unnoticeable touched the soldier’s skin. He was down at once and John pulled him back into the cell. He took his weapons, plural, and started to run.  
Of course he had also taken his security-card and now took the risk entering an elevator. The time was long over the soldier was supposed to have taken him into an interrogation-room. He rode up a few floors and left into the medical part of Baskerville.   
“Perfect!” John muttered and at once stole a white coat as well as a device to auscultate someone that he slung around his neck. He left the machine-gun behind but kept the pistol and the knife underneath his coat. Then he walked over the aisle; and he walked relaxed and with a smile on his face.  
He entered the next elevator up together with a group of doctors and nurses and no one became suspicious. He stole another security-pass and left the building with the rest of them. He hid amongst them when passing CCTV. He followed one onto the parking-lot and waited until he was alone. He approached and broke his neck. He shoved him into the shrubbery and slid behind the wheel whistling a tune.  
Showing his ID, he drove off the perimeter and was gone in a blink.

***

Right after John was gone the alarm went off because the dead soldier had been found followed suit by the dead doctor outside. Soldiers swarmed out on foot and by car but they only managed to find the car that John had left behind. He was long gone. He knew how to disappear.  
The person responsible stared at his phone and swallowed. While he dialled Mycroft’s number he already started to pack a box with his few belongings. He could be happy if he would still have his pension when Mycroft Holmes was done with him.

Mycroft was kind of happy when his mobile rang because he didn’t want to think about Gregory right now. He answered rather quickly and then only listened. He considerably paled and marched directly into his office where Sherlock still worked on his computer.  
“Yes. How could that happen? No! I need the exact time. How many losses? Yes. I see. No. I will see to your future later. You stay where you are. No words to the outside. You heard me! Yes. I will take care of everything else. You will hear from me. Personally.” And he hung up. The siren had blared in the background and Sherlock had been listening. He was pale now, too.  
“He has escaped, hasn’t he?” He quietly asked. Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes, he has. He killed two people and managed to get away. I was only told now that he knew his way around Baskerville.” Mycroft chewed on his lips. Sherlock only needed to think about it for three seconds.  
“You should call James Moriarty. Ask for his help. You will owe him but he will love the challenge.”  
“I think you are right.” Mycroft said thoughtfully.  
“Here, take your laptop and take care of everything. I’ll go and get Greg.” Sherlock stood and wanted to leave but Mycroft stopped him.  
“Sherlock, no. Please wait. I need to tell you something …” Sherlock looked shocked.  
“What did you do? Is he hurt? Did he leave already?” Sherlock stared at his older brother. Mycroft sat down on his chair behind the desk.  
“Everything was perfect. We went upstairs and showered together. I felt not good at first but the way he looked at me, it was great. I decided to give him something nice, so I gave him head. I can tell he loved it. But then he started to talk about a contract, about negotiating and a safe-word. I thought he didn’t trust me and said something rude. I walked away and left him behind.” Mycroft looked at Sherlock and his eyes were shiny. He was close to tears.  
“Well, Greg told me a lot about his past as a sub. He needs a safety-net. And even though he loves you, trusts you as his dom, he needs it written down. It has nothing to do with you personally, but it has everything to do with his past. Go upstairs and talk to him. Reassure him. Make that bloody contract. Don’t let him go, Myc!”  
“But I need to contact Moriarty first. You are …” But Sherlock interrupted him.  
“No, Myc. Go after him right now. I’ll contact Moriarty.” Mycroft stood again and hugged him once. Then he hurried out of his office and left his brother behind.   
Sherlock sighed and took the computer back. He sat on the chair and wanted to email Moriarty using Mycroft’s account. But the criminal mastermind had been faster. There already was an email from him.

_“You fucked it up!”  
XOXOXO_

And then another one.

_“Do you want my help? This time though I want to be paid!”  
XOXOXO_

Sherlock raised a brow. He sighed some more but typed his reply.

_“We do want your help. Name the amount, my brother will pay it.”  
???XOXOXO???_

Sherlock sent the mail and waited only half a minute.

_“I am planning already, dear! I don’t want any money. I want to be part of his downfall.”  
???REALLY???_

Sherlock again raised a brow.

_“He is mine. I will be the one who kills him. Slowly. You may watch. You may give me advice but nothing more. I need my revenge.”  
???YES???_

The next mail came very quickly, too. Sherlock started to like the exchange. He was busy. He was back.

_“I will happily show you the best way to end him administering loads of pain. For free. Just let me watch. Well, me and Sebby, if you don’t mind. He longs for it and it will be his birthday soon.”  
XOXOXOGOOGLEITXOXOXO_

Sherlock’s fingers hovered over the letters. This was getting weird. But first he googled the letters. Then he shook his head and even grinned. He really was back. He felt much better even though John was on the run.

_“Perhaps I can convince Greg to take care of the catering. He is a very good cook. I look forward to the event. But at first you go and find him!”  
NO!XOXOXO!!!_

There was a break next. Sherlock assumed Moriarty thought he had been joking. But he should know better.

_“I talked to Sebby. He will join us. He asked me to tell you that he has been hurt by Dr Watson, too.”  
CONSULTINGCRIMINAL_

Sherlock knew he shouldn’t feel for someone like Colonel Sebastian Moran but since he knew how John was, he did anyway. No human being should suffer beneath John Watson.

_“Very well. I am waiting for results starting now. I will hold Greg back. Text me, if necessary.”  
CONSULTING DETECTIVE_

Sherlock closed the laptop and leaned back in Mycroft’s chair. He felt a bit exhausted and closed his eyes. He started to think about his brother and Greg. Mycroft needed to talk to him. Greg couldn’t leave him. Them. Sherlock needed Greg, too. Greg understood how he felt and what happened. He had suffered almost the same fate.  
Suddenly Sherlock felt hungry. He stood and walked into the kitchen. By now he had no problems doing so. He didn’t feel like he wasn’t able to move or had to ask for permission.  
He opened the fridge and decided on some fruits. He also took a sausage and ate it cold. Then he switched the kettle on to have some tea.  
He wondered where Greg and Mycroft were and if everything was back to normal again. He couldn’t hear them. He took his tea into the living-room and saw that Greg’s things were scattered all over the place. He must still be here then.  
He stood in the middle of the room and listened. But there was nothing to listen to. It was very quiet, too quiet. He really hoped everything was fine. Because if Greg left, Sherlock would be devastated. It just couldn’t be.  
Mycroft wouldn’t let it happen, Sherlock was rather convinced about that. He loved him.  
He sat down and closed his eyes again. He felt lonely and left behind. But it was better like that. He was just too weird to attract someone normal. A decent and gentle dom who knew how to handle him. He probably would never find another dom who would have him.  
Sometimes he had enjoyed what John had done, for instance the light bondage, the edging and even sometimes the clamps. But everything had become too much and too brutal, sadistic even. He hadn’t liked that but it had been too late then.

Today he asked himself why he didn’t leave, go away, do something. He had no idea. He wasn’t able to answer that.  
There was still a lot of confusion and chaos inside his mind-palace. He really had to do some cleaning up.   
But now it was more important to get rid of John first. He didn’t mind asking for the help of James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran at all. For Sebastian it was a birthday present and for Moriarty it was fun. They would deal with the aftermath some time later.  
Right then Greg appeared and Sherlock opened his eyes and just looked at him.  
“Sherlock, did you see Myc?” He asked. Sherlock sat up straight. Where did his brother go?  
“I saw him last time in his office and I told him to talk to you, to not let you go. So what did he do?”  
“Oh, he came to me and he talked to me. But he talked too fast and without a break I was barely able to understand. And when he was done he placed several sheets of empty paper and some pens in front of me and left. I have no idea what he wants.” Greg looked rather helpless. Sherlock smiled.  
“He wants you to write the contract, Greg. He has no idea how to do such a thing.” Sherlock said.  
“But he is the dom!” Greg was shocked.  
“It doesn’t matter to him. He will do whatever you want. Can’t you see that, Greg?” Sherlock told him. Greg fell into an armchair and looked rather helpless.  
“No, I actually can’t. His behaviour is weird. I mean, he is a dom! Bloody hell, I can’t cope with that.” He shook his head.  
“But you love him, don’t you?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes, I do. I wish, he was my dom.” Greg quietly replied.  
“He is your dom. He just doesn’t know how to handle a sub. He never had one like he had you. He only ever went into clubs. He is actually as much a mental dom as I am a mental sub.” Sherlock smirked but it looked rather sad.  
“Oh …” Greg made a strange noise.  
“Anyway, I need to ask you if you want to participate in the destruction of one Dr John Watson. James Moriarty and Sebby Moran will also be present. You don’t have to and I understand why you won’t, but I would like to have you there. So?” Sherlock seriously looked at him. Greg just stared at him for about a whole minute. Then he cleared his throat.  
“Are you insane? No, don’t answer that.” He shook his head. Sherlock didn’t reply.  
“You do understand why I can’t do it, right? I am a DI at Scotland Yard. If they ever find out what I did, what I already have done, I am done for good. I will get fired and lose all my rights for pension and such.” Greg pleadingly looked at him.  
“Yes, yes, but you would like to if you could?” Sherlock insisted.  
“God, yes. I want to see him die, very miserably so.” Greg replied. Sherlock nodded.  
“Very well. It can be arranged. No one will ever know. Mycroft can see to that. You don’t have to worry.” Suddenly there was Mycroft again hovering behind Greg’s armchair.  
“Come closer, brother-mine.” He tensed right away and Greg turned his head to look at him. He made a move as if he wanted to get up but then didn’t. Mycroft made a hesitant step forward but didn’t approach fully. Sherlock watched them and didn’t understand what the problem was.  
“I believe you are in need of some help or mentoring.” Sherlock said smugly.  
“I believe you are right.” Mycroft replied seriously and Greg just nodded.  
“Thanks, Sherlock. You are the best.”  
“I suggest you get the paper and the pens. We will sit at the dinner table. Myc, get us something to drink.” Mycroft just turned around to fetch something. Greg was very surprised but quickly left to get pen and paper. Sherlock was happy he could be of assistance. This was very important to him. These two weren’t to break up. It was enough that he was unhappy.  
After a few minutes they sat at the dinner-table and Sherlock started to talk.  
“Greg, what do you expect from being a sub to Mycroft here?” He asked. Greg blushed and cast his eyes. He needed a moment to sort through his brain. But then he cleared his throat and sat up straight.  
“I need him to be gentle with me. No weird head-games. I need a safe-word.” Then he looked directly into Mycroft’s eyes.  
“You know I do trust you. I love you. I want you to be my dom.” Then he blushed again.  
“Well, that was very clear. Write it down so far, Greg. Now, Myc. What do you expect? What do you want?” Sherlock turned to his brother.  
“I couldn’t ever hurt you. I never was into pain anyway. I’d like to spank you though one day. I like a little bit of bondage but only to look at you. I don’t need the use of paddles, floggers or whips. It gives me nothing. I have no problem with you wanting a safe-word.” He looked into Greg’s eyes.  
“I will always listen to you, watch out for you and take care of you. I want you to be happy with me. I’ll give you anything you want. It’s an honour for me to have you as my sub. I love you, too.” Both men stared at each other.  
“Well, I am sort of superfluous here.” Sherlock murmured and took paper and pen away to write the contract himself.

***

Dr John Watson walked through the woods. He was rather pissed he had to leave the car behind but they were getting too close. He needed to steal another one. He was close to a village now. He could see the first houses in front of him.  
It was getting dark and he waited until all the lights were out and then he waited some more. Carefully he approached the house but he was lucky. There wasn’t a watch-dog or other animals around. He quietly tried the handle of the back-door and was lucky again. It wasn’t locked. He grinned and entered the house. He felt his way through the rooms and reached the hall. Some light was on because there was a night-light burning and John saw the keys in the bowl on top of the small table. Again he grinned and picked them up.   
The front door was closed but he held the keys now. Outside there was the car. Since the drive-way was downward sloping he loosened the break and pushed the car off the grounds without a single noise. Only after a certain distance he opened the door again and sat behind the wheel starting the car. He quickly drove away. He looked into the rear mirror and no lights came on. No one had noticed him stealing the car. He had bought himself some hours.  
He switched the radio on and whistled along. He imagined again what he would do to Sherlock. He would be having the time of his bloody life. Bloody. He viciously giggled.  
He drove towards London but had yet no idea how to get to Sherlock or how to get Sherlock with him. He also hadn’t yet decided if he might even sacrifice himself for the sake of it or get out of this mess alive and disappear into the depths of some African country.  
He reached a town and parked the car around the corner of a pub. He went in there and ordered a pint. He moved through the masses with it and stole a wallet from someone who looked drunk already but rich and wouldn’t notice. It worked prettily.  
He left through the back door and kept driving. He left the car at the outskirts of London and used the tube to get into the city. He checked into a cheap hostel where no one asked anything. He broke into another room and found a mobile that wasn’t locked.  
He called a very old contact because he needed more money and weapons. They were to be delivered tomorrow.

***

Back at Mycroft’s he and Greg still sat at the table inside the dining-room.  
“I was scared you would go away, leave me behind. I am sorry if I did it wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Mycroft said and looked at his well-manicured nails.  
“I was scared you would throw me out because I told you I wanted a safe-word and a contract. I understand now.” Greg reached out and carefully took his hand. His thumb moved over his wrist and he could feel the beating of his pulse.  
Greg very much wanted him right now. He was aroused. He wanted to do something nice for him. But he didn’t know if he was welcome.  
“You can tell me everything, Greg. There is nothing too much you could ask for. I want you to be happy here with me. I never want to lose you again. You don’t have to be scared because you think you can’t tell me, or tell me no because you don’t want something I initiated.”  
“I want to be with you.” Greg whispered and he made Mycroft blush. They smiled at each other and stood. Greg kept holding his hand and they walked upstairs.  
Mycroft closed the door and looked at him still having his hand held. He moved up and pulled Greg into his embrace. He hugged him fiercely for a few seconds until he let go again.  
“What do you need?” He asked.  
“I need you to claim me, be inside me.” Greg whispered and felt rather embarrassed.  
“It has been a long time since I …” Mycroft shook his head.  
“It has been ages for me as well. I am sure we can manage. We need to find out more about us. Let’s start slow.” Greg started to undress.  
“Would you like to undress me? It seemed you liked to do it last time we …” Mycroft offered insecurely.  
“God, yes. Thank you.” Greg murmured and at once started to do it. His fingers worked out all the buttons. He got him out of his waistcoat and the dress-shirt. Mycroft stood there and let it happen.   
Once and again Greg looked up at him to be reassured that everything was fine.  
“Talk to me, please? What do you want? How am I supposed to address you? What do you like?” Greg quietly asked while caressing Mycroft’s skin.  
“I want you on your back. I want to look at you when you come. You are to call me “Sir” only when a punishment will be administered. Should that ever happen, which I somehow doubt, then you will address me with respect.” Mycroft exhaled and closed his eyes while Greg opened his bespoke trousers and pulled them down. He stepped out of them after Greg had untied his shoe-laces. Now he was left with silken boxers. Greg licked his lips.  
“I like to look at your naked body. You are so beautiful.” Greg quickly undressed while trying to hide the colour on his cheeks. He was on his back in seconds looking up at Mycroft. He came to join him but knelt by his side.  
“What about you? What do you expect?” Greg licked his lips.  
“I like it a bit rough. I always loved a little bondage. If you don’t, it’s all fine. The main thing is we are together. I …”  
“I didn’t dare hoping. When I was in Japan, I …” Greg’s eyes widened and his cock was very, very interested. Mycroft saw it, too, and smiled.  
“Well, yes.” Greg reached out for him and Mycroft started to touch him. Suddenly there was lube on his fingers and Greg pulled up his legs. Mycroft opened him up and soon Greg was groaning loudly. Soon he was also begging.  
Mycroft thought about what he had said earlier and spread his knees while lining up. He forced the tip of his prick inside him and it made Greg hiss with pain. He didn’t stop him though. They locked eyes.  
“Perfect!” Greg said and Mycroft pushed his bent legs down on his chest pushing into him completely. 

***

Dr John Watson had collected money and weapons in the meantime. He also had found a place to stay. It was with an old friend from university. They had shagged a lot back then meaning he was a sub.  
He warmly welcomed John into his home and John settled in. After two hours he had forced him on his knees and face-fucked him.   
“So, Gary, are you happy to be with me again?” He asked locking eyes with him. Gary gurgled and drooled.  
“I see. You may tell me later.” John groaned and came deep down his throat. He swallowed everything and sat back on his knees. He licked his lips rather slowly.  
“God, it’s so good to have you back.” He whispered. John smirked.  
“May I get up?” He asked.  
“Sure, get up. I haven’t established any rules and I really don’t want to. I actually want to enjoy my stay here with you without any games.” John sighed and Gary tilted his head.  
“Sit down, John, and have a drink.” He poured him a whiskey and settled down by his side.  
“Thanks, mate.” They sipped their drinks and John closed his eyes.  
“So, why do you need to hide? I thought you had found yourself a proper sub? Or so I have heard …” Gary stopped talking when he saw the expression on John’s face.  
“I am not hiding! I am planning my revenge. They took my sub from me! Then they betrayed me! They even caught me and imprisoned me, but I could flee. I was back in Baskerville, but I made it out.” Gary just stared at him.  
“You are so amazing …” He looked at John Watson with awe and John bathed in it.  
“You are too kind, Gary.” John grinned and Gary liked what he saw.  
“Listen, I am taking my chance here and offer. You can have me if you want to play. I know you and what you are capable of. I take the risk happily because I know you can provide loads of fun for me.”  
“Not tonight, Gary. I really need to have dinner and go to bed. I know I am boring, but I will promise to consider your offer tomorrow.” John explained finishing his drink.  
“So shall it be. I will start preparing dinner now. Stay here and help yourself. I’ll call you when everything is ready.” Gary ruffled John’s hair who tensed at once. But he let it go. He liked Gary. Plus, he needed Gary.  
He was very different from Sherlock. He looked different and he behaved different. He wasn’t as weak as Sherlock. He didn’t wake the wants John had when Sherlock looked at him.

Sherlock was special. Sherlock was his sub. His. Sub.

He patiently waited for Gary to tell him dinner was ready. Until then he kept himself busy with fantasies of revenge and pain. Rape and torture. Death and desire.


	9. Hiding

In the meantime, Sherlock had written the contract for his older brother and Greg. Both of them were very happy and thanked him.  
“I am glad you are pleased with it.” Sherlock quietly said fiddling with his long fingers. Greg wasn’t present right now because he still was asleep. Only Mycroft joined him having breakfast.  
“I know you need something to do. Why don’t you keep your eyes on Dr Watson’s activities? I assume there will be new information I haven’t laid my eyes on yet. You can talk to Anthea. Of course you can also talk with me.”  
“I can do that. It will keep me busy and distracted. I will do everything needed to help catching him. He is a danger to society.” Sherlock said.  
“He mostly is a danger to you, Sherlock. He wants to have his wicked way with you, probably kill you.”  
“He hates me. I left him. I escaped from him. He wants to have his revenge and when he is done he will kill me.”  
“We will find him in time.” Mycroft reassured his younger brother.  
“May I use your office again, Myc?” Sherlock asked.  
“Sure. I’ll get ready for the day.” Mycroft said thoughtfully and Sherlock snorted.  
“Why don’t you just go back to bed? I am in your office. Where else would you spend your time? So do spend it with your precious Greg and have a good time. There is no need moping by my side.” Sherlock said and stood.  
“I won’t be moping, Sherlock. I would look over your shoulder.” Mycroft sounded a bit offended.  
“You would breath onto my neck.” But Sherlock smiled at him and stood. Mycroft sighed.  
“You are right. Well, I will go back upstairs.” He stood, too.  
“Have fun!” Sherlock grinned and made his brother blush. They parted and Sherlock settled at Mycroft’s desk. He arranged everything as he liked it meaning Mycroft would hate it.  
He read through every single report that had come in. And when he was done he had found out that John Watson really was back in London. There were sightings over CCTV but Mycroft’s armed forces had been too slow to catch up with him. And now he had disappeared again.  
Sherlock checked all the listed contacts but so far hadn’t found a clue where he could be hiding.   
He only wondered when he would attack again and how. Still Sherlock was rather scared that John would be successful, that he would take him and do unspeakable things to him. Finally, he would of course kill him but it would take a very long time.  
So far he really must have been holding back because no more bodies had been found. Perhaps he really was with an old friend now and planning his next attack.  
Suddenly a text alert popped up on his screen. Anthea was messaging.  
“Sighting of Dr Watson confirmed. Near Tower Hill Station.” Sherlock swallowed. Should he alert Mycroft? He decided against. He could take care of this.  
“Anthea, it’s Sherlock. Will you listen to me or do I have to get my brother?” He quickly typed.  
“No, it’s fine, Sherlock.” She replied.  
“What is he doing?” Sherlock asked.  
“He has just stepped inside the station. Two agents are following him. He is armed but he is alone.”  
“Keep going. I need to know where he is and what he is doing. I also need to know where and when you lost him, if it should happen. I need to know if he buys things or reads things. Everything. I need to know everything.”  
“You will know everything we know and see. Mycroft said to get him the moment not too many people around are in danger. So the tube is out of the question, we can’t do anything there.”  
“Your agents could push him in front of a train.” Sherlock suggested coldly.  
“Think of the driver and the people watching, perhaps there are children. Plus, the traffic will break down.”  
“I couldn’t care less.” Sherlock knew she was right but couldn’t admit it. She didn’t reply.  
“I want him dead. Only if he is gone, I can start again from the beginning.” Sherlock didn’t even know what he would start again. His life? His life was gone. His work was gone. His pride was gone. He had been dehumanised, tormented and abused. Would he ever get over it? Would his nightmares stop one day? Would he even find someone who would take care of him? Would he find a dom who won’t abuse him? Who won’t rape him daily? Who instead would give him pleasure? Would he ever have something like Mycroft and Greg had?  
Again Sherlock just snorted. He had given up all hope. For now, he just wanted to be left alone. He pulled up a map and circled the places where Dr John Watson had been seen.  
He pinned the map to Mycroft’s wall. He also scribbled on both the map and the wall. His mind had started to work again and it felt good.  
He only stopped when a hand gently touched his shoulder and a voice said his name. His head whipped around but it was just Greg. Obviously he must have called his name several times already because he looked quite a bit worried.  
“Sherlock? Are you OK?” He asked. Sherlock felt a bit dizzy but not really unwell.   
“Yes, yes, I am fine. What do you want?” He turned away again but Greg didn’t give up.  
“We want to have a late lunch. You must be hungry, too?” He offered and right then Sherlock’s stomach grumbled.  
“What’s the time?” Sherlock asked and shook off Greg’s hand from his shoulder.  
“Almost three. Myc and I are rather hungry, so I wondered if you’d like to join us?” Greg looked at him.  
“Yes, I’ll stop here and continue after lunch.” Sherlock said.  
“Will you give us an update?” Greg asked.  
“Sure, even though it’s not much. Just a bit of intel from Anthea.” Sherlock replied.  
“Very well, I am going to set up the table now. We will be ready in about half an hour.” Sherlock nodded and turned back to his wall. Greg left the room and shook his head.  
But Sherlock really finished his work and went into the dining-room. He sat down and waited for his brother and Greg. He could hear Greg though rummaging inside the kitchen.  
“Sherlock, there you are. What happened so far?” Mycroft joined him and stood by his side looking expectantly. Sherlock told him about what Anthea had said.  
“So far I haven’t found anything, no connection to anyone or anything that should enable us to circle closer.” Sherlock slowly shook his head.  
“He is a smart man, Dr Watson is. We knew it wouldn’t be easy but with our combined minds we will make it.” Mycroft sounded sincere and Sherlock did want to believe him. He got distracted when Greg appeared carrying two bowls. Mycroft didn’t make a move to help and Sherlock just sat there waiting to be served. Greg raised a brow.  
“You know; you could help? And I don’t mean only you, Sherlock.” Mycroft’s dominant side didn’t want to get up and help but he knew he had to change his attitude with Greg if he wanted them to have a proper relationship. So he stood and wordlessly walked into the kitchen to get more food. At the same time Sherlock smirked but got pointed towards the cupboards to fetch plates and such. Sighing he stood but set up the table. He wondered how Greg managed this, his behaviour towards his dom, towards Mycroft. It just seemed to be natural.  
Sherlock had always needed to act; it never came easy to him. He actually wanted to kneel at a dom’s feet, be petted and stroked. He never felt the urge to talk back or such. He always only wanted to be happy.  
He must have stared into nothing again while thinking about the matter because Greg just gently tapped on his shoulder waking him up. His eyes focused back on Greg.  
“Don’t dream away, Sherlock.” He said and smiled. Sherlock didn’t return the smile and just cast his eyes. He simply sat down and looked at his plate. He didn’t take any food. He felt Mycroft looking at him.  
“Greg said you were hungry just a minute before. Please eat, Sherlock.” There was no dominance in his words, but Sherlock shrunk back a bit anyway.  
“I heard your stomach rumble, Sherlock. You need to eat. If you want to take revenge, you will need strength. So?” Greg was a bit tougher and Sherlock sat back up straight.  
“My mind wandered off without me. It is not used to this anymore. I am sorry.” Sherlock whispered.  
“It’s fine. We are here to help. You know that. Whatever you need, Sherlock.” Greg said. Then he looked at Mycroft.  
“Greg is right, of course. But you need to do something, too. We will provide everything necessary, whatever it is.” Mycroft sounded very serious. Sherlock felt compelled to say something. Anything.  
“I know that. It’s just, sometimes I, it’s so hard for me to interact at all. Even with you. I get lost in my mind. It feels good to feel free again.” He exhaled and swallowed.   
Greg moved over the water and Sherlock drank. How was it that Greg always knew what he needed? How come he was so bloody perfect?  
“I have been through all this years ago. I know how hard it is. But you have to fight. You have to find your way back to life. It won’t be easy and I won’t promise anything. Just feel safe now.” Mycroft wanted to cry listening to him. How had he earned the love of him? He needed to tread very carefully. He can’t ever lose him.  
“If it were otherwise, I never would listen to anything you say. I trust you. I know you won’t lie to me.” Sherlock finally put some food on his plate. Both Greg and Mycroft relaxed and started to eat, too.

***

The following morning John Watson fucked Gary into oblivion. He enjoyed taking him a lot since he wasn’t really important to him. There were no hateful thoughts and he knew that Gary adored him. There wasn’t any love but there was something. That something was enough and when John was done Gary helplessly hung in the ropes that tethered him to the bed. His wrists and ankles were bloody, his body was sweaty and there were welts and bruises all over his body. He smiled up at John.  
“You are amazing …” He sounded rough and John smirked.  
“So are you. Enjoy yourself for a while longer. I’ll go and shower first. Perhaps I will leave you some coffee.” He grabbed the vibrating plug from the floor and shoved it into Gary’s behind who loudly groaned. He was sore and tears shot into his eyes. Also his cock shot up again making John laugh.  
“Well, well …” He rudely pinched his cock and now Gary screamed.  
“Do you need me to gag you, Gary?” John seriously asked towering above him. Gary shuddered. John sighed and took Gary’s soiled boxers from the floor. He forced them into his mouth and Gary’s eyes turned backwards and white. He stuffed them all the way in and used a belt to keep it inside. The belt’s leather was behind Gary’s teeth and it must hurt him. But he was hard as a rock and panting wildly.  
“Let’s see.” John murmured and brutally slapped his prick, pinched his testicles and switched the vibrator to the highest mode. Gary screamed like mad but couldn’t be heard at all.  
John looked very pleased and disappeared into the bath. He took his clothes with him and went through his bathroom-routine. Afterwards he checked through the kitchen for things to have for breakfast. And since he wanted to stay a bit longer, he made breakfast for Gary as well.  
After he had brewed the coffee he returned to Gary who pleadingly looked up at him. His thighs and stomach were covered in cum and his face was tear-stained. Even if it was only Gary it turned John on. A lot. Tears did it for him.  
He licked his lips and untied his ankles. He shoved his legs up and pressed them down on his chest. He just pulled out the vibrator and threw it on the floor. He was ready again and just pushed inside. He was still slick from last night and John started to fuck him fast and hard. He didn’t touch his cock though.  
“If you can come, you may come whenever you like. I also made coffee.” John barely got the words out but Gary made some noises and came. He looked pained and hurt and John just kept fucking him for several more minutes until he came again, as well.  
Only then he undid the ropes around his wrists and let go.  
“There you are. This was splendid. It really was. Now get ready and enjoy breakfast with me.” He just left him behind. Gary closed his eyes and enjoyed the last waves of his orgasm. It took him a few minutes until he was able to undo the belt and pull out the sodden boxers. He coughed and slowly sat up. He pulled a face when standing and feeling the cum leaking out of his hole. He swayed into the bath and under the shower.  
John was having his second cup of coffee when Gary appeared dressed in comfy clothes and slumped on the chair opposite of John.  
“Thanks, John, for preparing breakfast. You are the best.” John even poured him coffee.  
“You let me stay, you let me fuck you and you provide what I need. It’s all I can do, Gary.” Both men grinned.  
“Your supplies should be ready around noon. I can come along if you like and we can pick them up together?” Gary suggested.  
“Sounds good. You still got your car then?” John replied. Gary nodded.  
“I actually got me a new one. You will like it.” Gary sounded proud.  
“Gods, I haven’t had a car for ages now. And why should I? I was living at Baker Street, surrounded by buses and the tube. You don’t need one there. Plus, my sub always managed to hail a cab out of nowhere.”  
“John, you do sound sentimental.” They looked at each other.   
“There is a reason I want him back.” John said slowly.  
“There might be more than one reason you want him back.” Gary said. John smirked shaking his head.  
“You may be right.” They grinned and drank their coffee.

***

Sherlock had given Greg and Mycroft the prepared contract he had written. Both men disappeared to study it some more before finally signing it. Sherlock returned to his wall and stared at the drawings and pictures. Mycroft hadn’t commented on it. He would just hire some people to restore it after Sherlock was done.  
Suddenly the computer dinged again and Sherlock’s head quickly turned to the side. For one second he feared what he was about to see but then he hurried over to check it. It was Anthea again, requesting a video chat. He accepted.  
“Sherlock, thanks for reacting so quickly.” She said looking a bit in a hurry.  
“Sure, I have been right here. What happened?” Sherlock asked.  
“Nothing so far but we have sightings of John Watson close to Bermondsey. Do you remember anything near there he once might have mentioned?” She asked.  
“No, he never talked about old relationships or anything of his past. Not once. So sorry, I have no idea. When was he spotted?”  
“This morning. He was actually shopping croissants.” Sherlock raised a brow. John had never done such a thing when being with him.  
“That indicates he is living close by.” Sherlock said.  
“That’s what we thought, too. But he spotted the agent and we lost him again.” She admitted.  
“He won’t be staying there for a longer period. He will collect what he needs and then attacks again.” Sherlock said.  
“I am afraid so.” Anthea agreed.  
“Just keep me informed.” Sherlock asked and ended the video call. He swallowed. This was insane. John would come after him as long as it would take. He wanted him back, have his revenge and then he probably would kill him. But that would take time, Sherlock just knew it.  
He started pacing in front of the wall again. He felt utter hopelessness floating through his soul. He didn’t dare leaving his brother’s house. He really wanted to leave the house. He desired to walk through a park, perhaps feed the ducks, watch and deduce people.   
They really did need to find John Watson and take care of him. So to say. Sherlock never wanted to see him again. Never. He just wanted a trustful person like Greg or his brother tell him that John was no more. That he would be safe to roam the city again.   
The longer he thought about his life and what he had done before the more he wanted his former life back. Looking back now he didn’t really understand how everything could have happened. He must have been really stupid to fall for someone like John Watson. But he had trusted him. At the beginning he had been so nice and so good to him. He had given him pleasure, loads of. And then, very slowly, had started to work on his destruction.  
Now Sherlock wondered what John was up to. What did he plan? And when would his plan be executed?  
Probably soon enough. Obviously John felt very safe to walk around and buy things for breakfast.  
Sherlock snorted. He had to power up his brain and went into the kitchen. But just while preparing a toast he stopped and thought about his past again. Back then he had never eaten when being on a case because it had slowed him down. Now he felt the need to eat. And he ate the toast.  
John had hammered it into him both verbally and otherwise that he must eat. He had made him eat so much at a time that he had been throwing up. And then he had been punished. Sherlock swallowed and concentrated on the now. No one forced him to do anything. He ate because he wanted to. And it was good.  
Afterwards he went upstairs into his room. He undressed and looked into the large mirror. And what he saw was a sick looking, very pale, man. His body was covered in old scars, and the latest he had been given by John only a few days ago. There also were fading welts and bruises. He was able to count his ribs, see his bones protruding through the skin.   
His eyes wandered upwards from his toes to his face. He once stopped looking when reaching his nipples. They had been pierced and Sherlock remembered it quite vividly because John had done it himself. It had hurt horribly and had been such an insane experience. And now he was able to see the little punctured wounds, the tiny holes, inside his nipples. He wondered if it would heal, close up again. He had no idea.  
He let his eyes move on and finally reached his face. He was so pale, almost white, sickly so. There were dark patches beneath his eyes. His former mercurial eyes were now just pale orbs, lifeless almost. The sparks were gone.  
He blinked several times but kept on looking.  
“I look like a zombie. A zombie in comfy clothes. But I am not ready yet to wear my suits, my bespoke dress-trousers and shirts. John has taken them away anyway. I don’t even know if they are still somewhere at Baker Street or if he burnt them. The few I had left here with Mycroft are too old, too wide and too old-fashioned. But I want to go back to my former self. I really want to. And the first thing to accomplish that is to find him. Kill him. I do really hope they find him fast so he couldn’t attack me again. I need to work on it. I need to go downstairs again and check in with Anthea. We need to stop him.” Sherlock muttered the words staring into the mirror.  
He wasn’t aware that Mycroft listened in while standing by the door. He had wanted to enter Sherlock’s room after he had seen him coming upstairs but then he had heard him speaking and he just listened. Now he was horrified. Not only because of his work but because he saw his body. Again. Of course he had seen it before when putting Sherlock into bed, having undressed him, bathed him and everything. But somehow that had escaped him then. Now there was time to look and he more than anything wanted Dr Watson dead.  
Finally, Mycroft decided to interrupt his brother and cleared his throat. Sherlock slowly turned his head.  
“Myc …” He quietly said and just looked. Mycroft stepped inside and tried not to look too shocked.  
“Sherlock, I couldn’t but hear your words. Please get dressed again.” He said.  
“You didn’t come up here to tell me to get dressed. You wanted something. What is it?” Sherlock asked but turned to get his clothes back on.  
“Anthea just called and told me that the person who helped John Watson escape from Baskerville has been identified and arrested. Perhaps he can tell us more about his whereabouts.”  
“If he risked everything for him he should know him well.” Sherlock quietly replied and looked thoughtful again. Mycroft looked at him and thought about how depressed his brother looked. He hated that look.  
“Sit down with me for a moment, will you?” He looked at him and pointed over to the sofa. Sherlock just walked over there and sat. Mycroft joined him.  
“I heard your words from just now and …” Sherlock’s head shot up but he didn’t say a word.  
“I know it’s not nice to listen in to someone who isn’t aware of that. But you sounded so, so sad, and I needed to know what you were thinking about.” Mycroft reached out and took his hand.  
“I admired my amazing body.” He still sounded just sad.  
“It will take time, little brother. Until then just don’t exaggerate.” Mycroft said.  
“I know. I am torn between the urge to eat and the wish not to because of my former life. But I also know I need some strength to help finding him.” Sherlock clung to his brother but didn’t look at him.   
“You sure do. We will feed you up, don’t worry. I believe Greg will cook everything you want.” Mycroft assured him and it made Sherlock smile.  
“I know.” He sighed and only then looked into his brother’s eyes.  
“Have you read the contract again?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes, and we have already signed it, too. You have done great work. Greg is very pleased.” Mycroft sounded pleased.  
“What about you, Myc? Are you happy?” Sherlock looked at his older brother.  
“Yes, I am. I am very happy.” He smiled looking at Sherlock.  
“That’s good. I am happy for you. Both of you. Just don’t hurt him. He only deserves the best.” Sherlock said.  
“And that is what he will get.” Mycroft sounded very serious and Sherlock believed him. He knew he would try his best. There would be mistakes coming up because it was Mycroft but Greg knew him for years and he was able to deal. Sherlock had been able to see that already. It would work out.  
“Tread carefully, Myc. Promise me?” Sherlock asked.  
“Promise.” Mycroft replied.

***

Gary had been with John Watson when he picked up his gear since he had arranged everything. John happily paid for everything without discussion. They loaded everything into Gary’s car and rode back.  
After John had checked everything again they stood in the living-room and looked at each other.  
“You better should leave soon, John. As much as I would like to have you around but it is not safe anymore for you.” Gary said sounding really sad.  
“I know. But before I leave I want to dom you into oblivion. Just once more, as a special treat. This will be me saying thank you what I normally don’t do.” John replied. And Gary smiled falling on his knees at once. John stepped up and looked down.  
“You know; you are making this a bit too easy. Where is the challenge?” He asked.  
“Do you want me to fight you?” Gary asked almost shocked. John shrugged.  
“Maybe? Just do something so I can use my dominance.” John and Gary stared into each other’s eyes.  
“Well. OK then.” Gary cleared his throat. Then suddenly he straightened up and threw himself forward clinging to John’s legs. John really got surprised and fell backwards. The air was forced out of his lungs and he made a weird noise. Gary crawled up his body and tried to turn him around.   
John though wasn’t surprised for long. Adrenalin pumped through his veins and he threw them around.  
“Stop moving!” He yelled and Gary froze. The dominance pierced his skin and he could barely breath.  
“Good boy.” John smirked and turned him around. He held his wrists and knelt on them making Gary groan. He used the rope that was all over the flat to tie his wrists tightly. He grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back up.  
“I’ll feed you my cum for the last time now. Enjoy!” John said grinning and shoved his already hard cock into Gary’s mouth. Gary at once opened up wide to take him. John pushed and pushed until saliva and cum and also some blood ran out of his mouth.  
Out of fluttering eyes he looked up but he looked wild with desire and arousal. John was able to see that. It was something Sherlock had never done, he never had that special look on his face when being fucked down his throat.  
The thought made John angry and more aggressive. He pushed once deep down and held him tight. He watched his pupils widen and only when he was about to lose his consciousness he let go. Gary’s eyes turned back and he wasn’t able to breath properly. He fell to the side and didn’t move. Then he produced a painful noise that made John come on the spot. Only when he was done he once hit hard on Gary’s chest to make him breathe again. He wildly coughed and John brought him water.  
“Drink, Gary, come on.” He said and lifted him up. Gary drank and closed his eyes. John saw he was hard and he pressed his palm on his genitals and rubbed over it. Gary quietly came and just fell back with his eyes closed.  
John stood and packed his bag. He prepared to leave this place, but he wanted to say something to Gary before. So he waited. He knew it was a risk and probably stupid, but he didn’t want to leave him without a proper good-bye. He somehow really liked Gary and regretted that he couldn’t want him like he wanted Sherlock. But they were just so different. Gary didn’t wake the evil beast inside John like Sherlock did.   
“John?” Gary’s voice was very rough and John turned his head.  
“There you are.” He helped him stand and cut off the rope. Gary shook out his arms and thankfully looked at John.  
“God, you really are the best …” He smiled shaking his head. John grinned.  
“But I have to leave now. And I wanted to thank you. I appreciate your help and everything else you did.”  
“Always, John.” They shook hands and John left. All the things he had bought were still in the car outside and he would just leave the car somewhere, burn it down and give Gary enough money to buy a new one.   
Before entering the car, he carefully looked around but found nothing suspicious. He even went down and looked under the car but everything looked alright. He didn’t see the very small tracker attached to the antenna on the roof.

***

Sherlock couldn’t be arsed to get out of bed. He was depressed, sad and his soul was dark. Nothing could cheer him up and finally Mycroft fled his room crying. He stormed past Greg who had just woken up and came out of their bedroom.  
“Myc? What’s …” But Mycroft stormed into his office and locked the door behind him.  
“Sherlock?” Greg knocked and entered his bedroom. There was no reply and Sherlock hid beneath his blanket.  
“What happened? Are you in pain? Do you need anything?” Greg just wanted to sit down when Sherlock pushed the blanket away and sat up.   
“I need him dead, that’s what I need!” He yelled at Greg and threw his body on the side covering his head with his arms and hands. Greg was shocked. Sherlock never had been violent or aggressive. It just wasn’t in his submissive being. At once it made Greg uneasy but he got himself under control and he didn’t flee the room. His experiences with working for Scotland Yard and many, many victims helped him with this.  
“We know that. We are working to make it happen. You are working to make it happen.” Greg replied.  
“Not now.” The voice said from behind his hiding-hole.  
“You need to get moving, Sherlock. You scared your brother. He fled this room crying.” Sherlock snorted.  
“What did you say to him?” Greg wanted to know to make it better. Somehow.  
“I told him I’d rather kill myself than keep hiding in here forever.” He murmured and Greg paled.  
“Oh Sherlock, why have you been so cruel?” Greg sadly asked.  
“Me? So I am the cruel one now? Get out, Greg. Now!” Sherlock yelled and Greg stood automatically. He swallowed but then left him, as well. Slowly he went downstairs while tears ran over his face. He followed Mycroft but found his door closed. But he knocked anyway.  
“Please? Let me in? I need you, Myc …” He begged. It took Mycroft a little while but he opened the door. And when he saw Greg’s tear-stained face he just pulled him into his arms.  
It wasn’t only Greg who needed him right now, both men needed each other.  
They stood there crying for many minutes but finally Mycroft got a grip on himself and let go of Greg to blow his nose. But Greg kept clinging so Mycroft just pulled him along and they sat down.  
“He probably told you what he said to me, didn’t he?” Mycroft asked and Greg nodded.  
“Yes. And it was horrible to hear. How can he say such a thing? Do you think he would even try and do something so very stupid?” Greg asked and his eyes were blown wide with shock.  
“He is weak right now. He fell into a hole after having worked too hard. He thinks there are no results, no clues, and now he has lost his hopes. You know he has been using. So yes, I think he would do something stupid.” Mycroft nodded and looked very sad right now.  
“What can we do?” Greg asked and blew his nose, too.  
“I have to work harder. I have to find Dr Watson. I have to convince Sherlock that he will be found and killed. Only then Sherlock will be able to live a life again.” Greg swallowed.  
“I know. And I would never have thought that I am saying this, but I agree. I will help. Damn my job, I will do anything needed. You can count on me.” He carefully reached out for Mycroft’s hand who just smiled.  
“How do I deserve you, Gregory?” He smiled and gently kissed him on his cheek. Greg blushed and cast his eyes.  
“I keep asking myself the same, Myc. I love you so much.” And he kissed his dom’s knuckles very tenderly.

***

After several hours of intense brooding and depressing thoughts Sherlock got out of bed again. He was grateful that either Greg nor his brother had bothered him and instead had left him alone. He showered and dressed into fresh clothes. He needed to eat. He was thirsty, too. He longed for a proper glass of wine. And he knew he had to say sorry. He sighed standing in front of his mirror.   
He was rather pleased though because he looked a bit better than at the time of his arrival in here. He tried a smile and it was fine. Still there were many kilos needed. He pulled at his shirt and the hem of his trousers and he was able to pull it off too far. He pulled a face and let go. He sighed again and left his room to find the others.  
He met them in the kitchen and watched for a bit while they adored each other. He couldn’t but smile. He waited a while and then cleared his throat. Greg twitched but Mycroft just turned his head. Slowly Sherlock entered the room.  
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was in a bad state and felt very hopeless. I am better now.” He tried to explain and when he saw Greg smile again it felt good. He stood and came over to hug him.  
“It’s all fine, Sherlock. I was just so shocked.” He said and gently pulled his hair.  
“Please don’t say such a thing again. It made me worry.” Mycroft said.  
“I won’t, I promise.” They all looked at each other until Greg stood.  
“Now that my appetite is back we will have a proper meal.” He started to collect things and made the brothers leave the kitchen. Mycroft threw a last longing look over his shoulder but Greg didn’t see him. Sherlock smiled and pulled him along.  
“Let’s check in with Anthea. Perhaps there are news.” They sat at Mycroft’s desk and read through the mails she had sent in the meantime.  
“So he is moving again.” Mycroft said reading.  
“Obviously. I wonder what he is up to.” Sherlock said.  
“I wonder where he was hiding. Anthea tells nothing about another person.” He kept reading.  
“But she is still on it, isn’t she? If we find this one, we probably will find him.” Sherlock still wasn’t able to say his name without choking.  
“Yes, of course she is. And, oh, our men put a tracker on Watson’s car. We can in fact track the bloody sucker.” Mycroft murmured and Sherlock was surprised because of the words he had used.  
“Show me!” Sherlock ordered and Mycroft opened the tracking programme. Sherlock sat down and stared at the screen while Mycroft checked on their dinner.  
“Greg expects us in about half an hour.” He came back and sat down by Sherlock’s side.  
“Huh …” Sherlock said and pointed at the screen.  
“Look. He is driving into the city. He is close.” Sherlock only whispered but didn’t sound frightened. He more sounded excited. Mycroft thought it sounded much better than before.  
“Anthea is watching, too. He won’t get too close.” Mycroft said.  
“He doesn’t need to be too close if he is in possession of a drone, for instance.” Sherlock replied coolly.  
“A drone? Please, Sherlock!” He tilted his head looking amused. Sherlock wasn’t amused.  
“I am not joking. He has told me he had been working with drones during the war. So what kind of defence weapons do we have here?” Sherlock asked.  
“Let’s have dinner.” Mycroft said and turned away.  
“Don’t do that, Myc. I am not a child anymore. Tell me the truth. I can handle it.” Sherlock called out standing up.  
“Forgive me. Of course we don’t have any defence weapons. But I have more security and Anthea is watching the air and well as the grounds. Just in case I have reactivated the bunker.” Mycroft said looking out of the window.  
“You have a bunker?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes?” He admitted.  
“Why don’t I know that? You never told me!” Sherlock was kind of shocked but also excited.  
“Perhaps I never told you about it because it is a state secret? I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone! And you were a risk to me! If someone would have taken you …” Mycroft stopped talking.  
“Well, someone did take me. More than once and much violently so.” Sherlock just said and walked out of the room.  
“Wait, Sherlock! Please?” Mycroft raced after him but Sherlock didn’t stop. Instead he marched directly into the kitchen to help Greg.  
Greg just took one long at Sherlock and simply handed over a wooden board and a knife plus some vegetables. Sherlock at once started to violently chop and cut very precisely and quickly. Greg wasn’t almost able to follow with is eyes and just stood back. Sherlock obviously was upset but managed fairly well. Greg didn’t interrupt and instead turned to Mycroft when he entered the kitchen just after his brother.  
“Leave him.” Greg said and held him back. Mycroft looked at him and calmed down at once. Again he thought how lucky he was and it must have been in his eyes because Greg just smiled at him.  
In the meantime, Sherlock took over the kitchen and complimented both men outside. And they left doing as he wanted. Mycroft made Greg sit and handed him a drink.  
“Thank you, Myc. Such a good idea!” He happily smiled and slumped back into the sofa while Mycroft stood in front of him looking rather helplessly.  
“Just tell me. What happened now? What did upset him so much?” Greg asked.  
“I spilled something I didn’t mean to. At least not without a reason.” Mycroft said.  
“And now he is pissed because he didn’t know whatever it was?” Greg asked and Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes. I also might have used the wrong words.” Mycroft sighed.  
“I see. Well, he will spill while or after dinner. Don’t worry.” Greg expectantly looked at him.  
“What secret?” He finally asked.  
“Oh, you expect me to tell you, as well?” Mycroft sounded a bit shocked.  
“Well, yes?” Greg answered raising a brow. For a sub he could be rather demanding.  
“There is a bunker in my back-yard. It was a state secret until I told Sherlock and now you.” He blurted it out.  
“A bunker. In your back-yard. Are you kidding me?” Greg asked.  
“No, I am not kidding you as you so eloquently put it. You know of my position with the government, Gregory. I am one of the few persons who have to be safe in case of an emergency such as a war or whatever.”  
“And who else would be with you?” Greg asked.  
“It was planned for Anthea and myself only. But things have changed.” Greg simply looked at him.  
“You know, I have two children, don’t you?” The bomb finally had exploded.

***

John Watson had abandoned the car after having found the tracking device. He disappeared into the sewer taking the most effective weapons with him. And he actually warned Gary that his car will be found and he would be questioned. But he trusted Gary. He could admit that he had been with him and nothing else. What did he know anyway? He was just a submissive who happened to know Dr John Watson.

John smirked while he settled in the dark. There were other people around but they didn’t bother him. They were afraid of him and he was left alone. No one dared to steal stuff from him or even approach him.

Sitting there cleaning his guns made him think. Perhaps he should have treated Sherlock a bit better. He could still be with him. He could still live at Baker Street and enjoy fucking him senseless. Times with Sherlock had been most enjoyable, he had to admit that. 

But Sherlock had wanted to keep his own life. He had wanted to work but John wanted him for himself. Somehow Sherlock had agreed with everything John wanted. The fear of losing him, losing a dom, was too big.   
And John found the power he held over Sherlock too good to lose. He always found something he could punish him for, invented new games and new ways to torture him. And Sherlock followed him on this path until it became something more than a dom-sub relationship. Sherlock became John’s slave, John’s thing he could do with as he pleased. And John did as he pleased until Sherlock almost died.

The moment John had realised that Sherlock was gone, had actually fled, he was shocked. He missed him. He missed his adoration and his love. He also missed his body and his duties. And he was simply pissed and angry. He wanted him back and he wanted his revenge. And he had acted on it.

But now sitting in the dirt and mud down in the sewers, he had changed his mind. A bit. He regretted his over-reaction. He knew he had almost destroyed Sherlock’s brother’s house. There were dead people involved. He had gone too far and he knew that. There wouldn’t be any forgiveness or mercy.

He sighed. He could only fight and lose or simply run. Or maybe he could make a deal with Mycroft. He could offer his skills and do black-ops for the government. He would torture and kill and in return he would be safe from being brought to justice.  
Sherlock surely wouldn’t like it, he probably wanted him dead and John could even understand why. He had badly hurt him, starved him, made him horribly freeze. He had made him beg for everything. He had dehumanised him.  
John worried his lips picturing the scenes in his head. Right now he wasn’t aroused at all.

***

Sherlock had finished cooking and was carrying the bowls into the dinning-room. He called out for Greg and his brother and they quickly came over and sat down. Sherlock at once saw that something had come up.  
“Are you upset because of the bunker?” He asked Greg but he shook his head.  
“No, I was just surprised that your brother didn’t know about my two children.” He said.  
“Oh, that’s strange indeed.” Sherlock replied shaking his head. Mycroft raised his brow.  
“So, you did know?” He asked and Sherlock just nodded.  
“Yes? I talked to Greg a lot, so naturally it came up.” He shrugged.  
“Well, it seems I haven’t talked enough then.” Mycroft poked into his food. Greg reached out for him.  
“You just didn’t ask the right questions. We are good, Myc. Don’t you worry.”  
“But now I do. So where are they? What are their names? How old are they?” He moved the fork through the air.  
“Well, you do know that I am divorced. They are with their mother in Bristol. I see them once in a while and we always have a great time. I love them and they still love me. They are both dominants, by the way. They are called Jennifer and Kate. Jenny is 8 and Kate is 12.” Greg answered and took a bite now and then. Mycroft and Sherlock listened and were both very excited.  
“Do you have a picture?” Mycroft asked and Greg nodded.  
“Sure thing. I have loads of.” He said pulling out his mobile. He handed it over and Mycroft had a look. So did Sherlock.  
“Cute!” Sherlock commented and smiled.  
“Adorable!” Mycroft added and it made Greg very proud, he even blushed.  
You think? Of course I think so, too. He grinned and only then started to eat for real.  
“I would like to meet them, invite them into our home, so I can introduce myself properly. But only if you want that, too.” Mycroft suggested.  
“That’s a wonderful idea, but the crisis with John Watson must be done with by then.” He seriously said.  
“Since we don’t want to spend our family time in the bunker, I believe you are right.” Mycroft just said and made Sherlock laugh. It was such a wonderful sight that everyone relaxed and they went over to have a drink together by the fire-place.   
Right after Mycroft had poured drinks his mobile dinged. He checked it and raised a brow.  
“Anthea is coming over. She needs to tell us something.” He sounded thoughtful.  
“What?” Greg asked. Sherlock just clung to his glass and said nothing.  
“She didn’t say. She will be here in a few.” Mycroft replied and Greg stood to brew coffee for her. It was ready when she appeared.  
“I am sorry to disturb you all but this is something I didn’t want to email you.” She inhaled and happily accepted the coffee from Greg.  
“Thanks, DI Lestrade.”  
“What is it, Anthea? Does it concern him?” Sherlock asked. He still could barely use his name.  
“Yes, it does. He contacted us.” All of them just stared at her.  
“He did what?” Mycroft asked straightening up.  
“Yes, he did. He offered us a deal.” Sherlock snorted and Greg just shook his head.  
“What kind of deal could he even offer?” Mycroft asked.  
“He offered his skills and knowledge in return for his freedom.” She replied.  
“His freedom? No money? No new home? No me?” Sherlock became loud.  
“Just that.” Anthea said and shrugged.  
“Where is he?” Greg asked.  
“We don’t know. We can’t track him anymore. The email he sent was untraceable.”  
“Hm. We sure know of his skills. But what knowledge? Knowledge about whom? He needs to give more information.” Mycroft said and Sherlock just closed his eyes.  
“You can’t really …” Greg started to speak but got interrupted.  
“Yes, I can. Anthea, go and find out. Come back to me as soon as possible. Use my office. Go!” He sent her away and turned to face his brother and lover.  
“This is the only way to get to him, don’t you see?” Mycroft said.  
“You really want to use him. You want a deal. You forgot all about me.” Sherlock quietly said and sounded very sad.  
“That’s not true, dear brother. He needs to come to us. He has to turn himself in. So, if he believes we are serious he will come out and show himself.” Mycroft tried to convince his brother. But Sherlock downed his drink, stood and topped up his glass again. Only then he looked at his brother.  
“I really wish I could believe you. But if he says something, if he has something you could use against other politicians, you will work with him. I am not as important as England, right?” He downed the second drink and left the room.  
And deep inside Mycroft knew that Sherlock was right. He swallowed and then downed his own drink. Suddenly there was Greg in front of him.  
“Tell me, this isn’t true. Please?” He only whispered the words. They locked eyes and Mycroft didn’t reply. Greg’s eyes teared up and he simply left the room, too.   
Mycroft worried his lips but it was the only decision he could have made. So he joined Anthea in his office.  
“Have you been in contact?” He asked.  
“Just have. He agreed on a meeting. We still have to work out how and where. He wants to send a suggestion.” She looked up at him and sensed something but didn’t ask.  
“Let’s do this very quietly. Only the two of us will be involved. Whatever DI Lestrade or my brother will be asking, you won’t answer their questions. Am I understood?” He asked.  
“Yes, Sir.” She didn’t say more and it wasn’t necessary.  
“Let’s talk about possibilities then.” Mycroft said after a few seconds and she just nodded.


	10. Meeting Up

Sherlock was back in his room and rested on his bed. He was wide awake and stared up at the ceiling. Greg had tried to talk to him, but Sherlock had just left. He didn’t want to speak with Greg.   
Instead he tried to find a way around his brother’s blocking the information regarding the John issue. There just must be a way.  
He wondered why John had made his offer. Was he really that scared? Sherlock wasn’t really able to believe that. John Watson was many things but never scared. It just wasn’t possible. So what was the real reason? 

It probably was just a trick to get close again. He perhaps hoped that he would meet him when working for Mycroft and then he would take revenge. Perhaps it didn’t matter anymore how long it took. Perhaps he was patient enough to wait for months or even years?

Sherlock swallowed down his fears and kept thinking about what to do.  
But the feelings he had regarding his brother were hard to handle at the same time. He was so disappointed that Mycroft even thought about taking the offer. John Watson had almost killed him and now he was back into the game of politics?   
Sherlock snorted.

And then it occurred to him that perhaps he should let him get close, pretend that he wanted him back? And then he could take his own revenge. Then he could kill John.  
Actually the thought scared him a lot. As a submissive he shouldn’t have these violent ideas. And mostly not against dominants.  
But Sherlock had always been special. He even had had proper work and managed everything on his own. He had a flat and he was kind of well known, a person of interest. And then he had met Dr John Watson. And he had been so kind to him. Sherlock fell in love, fell for John. And he didn’t want to be so lonely again, so he stayed and let John do as he pleased until it almost was too late.  
Sherlock closed his eyes when tears threatened to fall. He clawed at the blanket and willed himself not to cry.  
“Damn him! He reduced me to almost nothing and I still cry for the loss of him. It just can’t be …” He moved his head over the pillow and instead of being sad he nurtured his anger and hate.  
A few hours later he had a plan. He would go and see his brother and Greg. He would explain that he had thought it over and had calmed down again. He very much understood, of course, his brother’s reasons to do as he did.

And finally, when John was close, he would act.

***

John Watson sat in his hiding-hole and gnawed on his lips.   
“It has been a bit too easy, but now I have to do what I suggested. His assistant will get the coordinates and then we have to see.” He texted her the place and time. He had chosen a public space, namely Trafalgar Square, to meet with Anthea or even Mycroft Holmes. He wondered if he would come in person. Probably yes, because it concerned his baby-brother. He wouldn’t want to involve too many others.  
And if it didn’t work out he could always disappear into the crowd there. There was no imminent danger for him.  
He had set the date for the next day and started to prepare with cleaning his gun. He checked the premises and found the was still left alone. He went to bed rather early, drank some water and fell asleep.   
The next morning, he was a bit smelly. He packed some fresh clothes and left the sewers. He went into town and entered some hotel on the way. It was an anonymous place and he just rode upstairs where he asked a maid to let him inside a room because he had forgotten his key-card. It was no problem since he could be very charming, if he so desired.

He showered for quite some time, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He looked nice or so he thought. He smiled at his image in the mirror and took all the contents of the mini-bar with him.  
He reached Trafalgar Square half an hour early and sat right in the middle of a crowd on a stone-wall facing the square and not the street. He held his face into the sun and enjoyed being outside again.  
His senses were on alert as he felt someone getting close to him. He opened his eyes and turned his head.  
“Dr Watson.” It really was Mycroft Holmes himself with his assistant Anthea. John Watson slowly stood and looked at them from a safe distance.  
“Mr Holmes.” He said nothing more because he wanted Mycroft to speak, tell him what he wanted. And he did.  
“Well, Dr Watson. Let’s not talk about my brother, it would only upset me. Instead let’s hear what you have to offer except for your known skills.” Mycroft glared at him but tried hard not to.  
“I am offering secrets. I am offering documents. I am offering names.” Mycroft tilted his head.  
“In return for what exactly again? If you are going for your life, it must be worth a lot and I want samples. Now and here.” Now John Watson tilted his head, too, and even if he was way shorter than Mycroft Holmes it made some impression on both Mycroft and Anthea.  
“Well, yes, of course it will be for my life. And of course I expected you needing samples. So here we go.” He reached into his pocket and Anthea quickly stepped in front of Mycroft with her hand in her pocket. John grinned and shook his head.  
“No worries, it’s just a piece of paper.” He carefully pulled it out using two fingers and handed it over. Mycroft gingerly took it reaching around her. His eyes scanned over the document and then again. His face showed nothing and John was a bit impressed by his reaction.  
“Any good?” He asked after a minute or so.  
“Yes.” Mycroft replied and handed it over to Anthea. She just stored it away in her bag.  
“So?” John said looking at him.  
“It’s not enough. I need …” But Mycroft got interrupted.  
“No, you wanted proof that I know stuff. You’ve got proof, I know stuff. If you want more, I want something in return.” John demanded.  
“What do you want?” Mycroft asked.  
“I want to talk to Sherlock.” John said.  
“No!” Mycroft said at once shaking his head.  
“Just on the phone.” John insisted but Mycroft kept shaking his head.  
“I can’t make him do that. He won’t do that.” Mycroft said.  
“Oh, you can. But you just don’t want to. Well, here is a little bit more. Perhaps it will inspire you.” He got another piece of paper out of his pockets and offered it to Mycroft. He took it, read some of it and his eyes widened. It was a weapon-deal between a MP and an Arab country. Illegal, very much so. It would break the MP’s neck and destroy him and not only him.   
Mycroft very much wanted this, but he also knew he had to give something in return.  
“OK, you have proven you have loads of very important things to tell. We already know of your skills. No need to prove them. I will talk to my brother and try to convince him to get on the phone with you. For the greater good.” John laughed out loud.  
“Yes, well. You’ve got my number.” And he just left them nodding towards Anthea and gone he was, disappearing into the masses. Mycroft muttered something nasty.  
“Well, he is good.” Anthea said and both rode back to Mycroft’s office.  
“He sure is. And his information is worth much more than a call from Sherlock.” Mycroft said.  
“So you will really do this to your brother?” She asked and he just looked at her.  
“Yes, I will. He needs to see that this is more important than him brooding inside my guest-room. Perhaps it helps him move forward? Perhaps they even agree on something?” Anthea just shook her head.  
“We’ll see. Actually I would like to see your brother’s reaction when you tell him.” She said smirking.  
“Well, I might film it with my phone.” He pulled a face.

***

Sherlock had left his room the following morning and joined Greg for breakfast. He sat down and poured coffee. Then he looked up and directly into his dark-brown searching eyes.  
“I am sorry. I over-reacted yesterday.” Sherlock said.  
“You were worried and you had every right to be.” Greg replied.  
“When did he come back? I haven’t heard him.” He really hadn’t. He had fallen asleep rather early after having fled into his room.  
“Oh, it was about eleven and he tried to be very quiet. I only woke when he climbed into bed beside me.” Greg still blushed and it made Sherlock smile.  
“And did he say anything?” Sherlock asked.  
“Just that it was a success, but he didn’t tell more. He only said he wanted to talk to you today.” Greg replied.  
“I see.” Sherlock hoped that Mycroft wanted them to get in contact. Of course, he would have to refuse at first and then later give in. He was quite the actor, always had been. It would work prettily.  
“I am glad you are better. Would you like to eat something?” Greg offered naturally.  
“I really would like to have a pancake.” Sherlock said and hopefully looked at Greg.  
“Sure thing. But you have to eat it.” He tried to look stern but it didn’t work.  
“I promise to eat even two. I am really hungry.” Sherlock said sipping his coffee.  
“Perfect. I’ll just make a bunch because I want some, too, and probably Myc would like to have some, as well.”  
“Sure thing!” Sherlock grinned and Greg shook his head starting on the dough. And of course Mycroft entered the kitchen the moment the first batch was ready and on the table. Very quickly Sherlock snatched one pancake to be on the safe side.  
“Sherlock, good morning. You were asleep already when I came back home yesterday.” Mycroft said looking at his younger brother.  
“You could have called or texted me, if you wanted to tell me something important.” Sherlock said looking serious.  
“I suppose, I should have, yes. I am sorry.” They looked at each other and Sherlock felt like his plan could be working.  
“So, what do you want to tell me after having met him?” Sherlock spoke quietly and widened his eyes. He knew both Greg and his brother would fall for it.  
“He did in fact gave us important information worth a lot. But of course he wanted something in return.” Mycroft licked his lips and Sherlock just looked at him.  
“So?” He simply said. Mycroft straightened his tall body looking for a second for reassurance over to Greg.  
“What he wanted is you on the phone. He wants to talk to you.” Mycroft said looking at his pancake right after having told him.  
“Well, I sort of expected this. But I need to think about it. Give me a few hours and I’ll be back to you.” His voice broke and he almost choked on the last bit of pancake. Greg quickly handed over a glass of water and Sherlock drank.  
“Thank you, Greg.” He placed two more pancakes on his plate together with sugar and cinnamon as well as another cup of coffee and disappeared into his room. There he sat at his desk and thought it through.

Of course he would speak to him. He needed to convince him that he had calmed down again, that he missed him and wanted to be taken back.   
He munched on his last pancake smiling. This could really work. One problem left was how to get his hands on a weapon. He can’t just risk using a knife. He was too slow for that and John was a skilled close combat fighter. So he needed a gun to shoot him. That was the only way.

He had made his decision and would go through with it. Now he just had to let time pass by and tell Mycroft tomorrow that he would speak to his former dom.

***

John was back underground and wondered if Mycroft Holmes really could make his brother do it, make him call. John really wanted to speak to him. Now he stared at a stash of paper and tried to write down what to say to his former sub.  
His dominant self kept yelling at him but John didn’t listen. Instead he really thought about it.  
“I miss him. What exactly do I feel? Why do I miss him? It’s not the possibility to torture him or fuck him. It’s simply him, I am missing. I miss him around. He always was so trustful and devoted. The way he just looked at me, right into my eyes. He loved me, he really did. And what did I do? I hurt him. All the time I hurt him.” John rumpled the paper he had been doodling on and threw it forcefully away.  
“He could have been the one to spend the rest of my life with.” He closed his eyes and raggedly exhaled.  
“Do I regret my actions? Bloody hell, yes, I do.” He rubbed over his eyes and took one of the small bottles with alcohol he stole from the hotel this morning. He drank it down and sighed.  
“Can I ever win him back? How can I win him back? Perhaps I need to ask him what he wants, really wants.” He drank some more.  
“I took everything away from him. His work, his friends, even his clothes. I did unspeakable things to him because for me it was fun and gave me great pleasure. I made him into my slave.” He downed the third bottle.  
“But he followed me, did what I wanted. Why? Why did he play along?” John asked himself all these questions until he finally fell asleep. He hadn’t written a single word.

***

Mycroft didn’t see through his younger brother. He really felt sorry for having to do what he had planned. But he thought it was right. He saw how Greg looked at him and became a bit stubborn about it. They sat in front of the fire-place and listened to classic music Mycroft had picked. It didn’t bother Greg because he just wanted to be close to his dom. Inch by inch he moved closer.  
Mycroft was a bit irritated by that behaviour because he didn’t understand it. Until finally Greg leaned against him and closed his eyes. His arm came around Greg’s shoulder and he pulled him against his body. He heard him sigh and exhale.   
“What do you need?” He quietly asked.  
“I have what I need.” Greg replied with his eyes closed and smiling.  
“You don’t approve of what I have done.” Mycroft quietly said nuzzling Greg’s hair with his long nose.  
“I don’t have to approve. It’s your work and I accept it. I believe what you do is right.” Greg replied.  
“You are worried though.” Mycroft murmured inhaling his sub’s scent.  
“I am, yes. It’s Sherlock. I am not sure if he is strong enough. But he wants to help you so he will do it, will talk to him, will probably even agree to meet him if you ask him.” Greg replied holding his dom tighter.  
“And you don’t like that at all. I can feel it.” Mycroft said pressing a kiss on Greg’s temple.  
“No, I don’t. We should watch him. Sherlock, I mean. I don’t want him to suffer. And he will suffer if he agrees. We have to help him walking the path he has chosen.” Greg said turning his head and offering his lips.   
Mycroft just took the offer and kissed him deeply and longingly. Greg melted in his arms.  
“Let’s go to bed. I want you in my bed, Gregory.” Mycroft rumbled into his sub’s ear. Greg shivered and slowly got up. He watched Mycroft stand and look at him. He still was a bit dizzy after the kissing.  
“Come with me.” Mycroft reached out for him and Greg took his hand. He was pulled up and almost stumbled.  
“Aren’t you feeling well?” Mycroft asked but Greg shook his head.  
“No, this was you. You make me feel like this. I am swooning …” He let out a giggle and Mycroft was very much surprised. He hadn’t heard such a sound coming from Greg and the experience that he made him swoon and even sway was fantastic. He straightened up and pulled him along. But rather carefully so.  
Upstairs he made him sit on the bed when Greg wanted to go on his knees.  
“No, love. Not tonight. Tonight I am going to make love to you.” He tenderly undressed his sub who wasn’t able to speak. Instead his eyes teared up.  
After Mycroft had undressed Greg, he started on himself. But as usual he went into his walk-in wardrobe. Greg’s eyes followed him and he made a noise to stop him. And stop he did.  
“I just get undressed. I’ll be right back.” He hurried to do so and climbed into bed behind Greg.  
“Why don’t you show yourself to me when you undress?” Greg asked but got no reply. Instead Mycroft pressed him onto the mattress and placed himself on top of him. The room was almost dark by now.  
Greg wondered why he was so self-conscious. He loved him. He knew that he loathed his freckles. But Greg simply adored them. He reached out and his hands roamed over his shoulder-blades and almost reached his behind. His fingertips pressed a bit into his flesh and he made him groan.  
“Gregory, don’t … I want … God, you are driving me insane!” Mycroft said and started to kiss him again.  
“I am glad I can still do such a thing.” Between kisses the words came out. Soon both men were aroused and hard. They were also leaking and Mycroft took Greg’s cock into hand and started to move. Soon Greg moved with him until he was close. Mycroft used Greg’s pre-cum to slick up his cock because he couldn’t be bothered with looking for the lube.  
Greg wanted to turn around but Mycroft stopped him.  
“No, I want to see your eyes.” He said and Greg pulled up his legs and spread his knees. Mycroft lined up and carefully pushed inside. Greg was wide enough plus he liked it a bit rough like this. Soon he was groaning and sweating in tandem with Mycroft’s moves. His hands fisted the sheets.  
“Hold on to me, Gregory.” Mycroft said and Greg’s sweaty hands were placed on his hips. He moved faster then and really fucked him into the mattress.  
Greg yelled the house down and Mycroft enjoyed every sound he made.  
“Myc, please, I can’t, please?!” He begged.  
“Just come for me, love. Come now!” He groaned the words and Greg just came. He shot his load between their bodies. The expression of pure bliss on his face made Mycroft come, too.  
His arms were shaking from holding himself up not to fall on top of Greg. He groaned and carefully rested his exhausted body by Greg’s side. He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled his sub’s scent.  
“You are amazing …” Greg whispered and lightly petted his side. Mycroft turned his head.  
“You woke the beast in me …” They locked eyes and Greg suddenly started to giggle. Mycroft laughed, too.  
“We probably woke Sherlock.” Greg said.  
“Yes, we probably did. But he has to deal with us. It’s us or moving out.”  
“We could try to be quiet or go someplace else?” Greg suggested.  
“I really don’t want to gag you, Gregory. And what do you suggest? A hotel where one can rent rooms for the hour?” Mycroft snorted.  
“I really don’t like to be gagged but I would take it. Plus, renting a hotel-room like that could be rather exciting.”  
“Are you serious?” Mycroft asked and Greg shrugged.  
“Yes?” Suddenly Mycroft smiled.  
“Perhaps you are right and we need a change. Something else. Something weird. Something special.” Mycroft mused.  
“But only after we are done with the John issue.” Greg replied.  
“Why wait?” Mycroft looked into his eyes.  
“We can’t leave Sherlock alone.” Greg seriously said and Mycroft looked thoughtful for a moment.  
“We can’t pamper him for ages.” He finally said.  
“We should ask him.” Greg insisted.  
“We can do that and if he denies us the wish, we will seriously discuss the issue.” Mycroft said and Greg nodded.  
“OK.” He got up on his elbow and looked at Mycroft.  
“You should know that I am very, very happy with you.” He whispered the words.  
“So am I.” Mycroft replied and kissed him. Greg fell back and in a second Mycroft was back on top of him.

***

Sherlock had woken up when Greg had yelled the place down. At first he was scared but he quickly realised that these were screams of pleasure and he smiled. He also envied him but at the same time was very happy for both of them.  
He sighed and tried to fall asleep again but couldn’t. So instead of listening to them shagging each other senseless he donned his dressing-gown and walked downstairs. He poured a drink and stared out of the window.  
He longed to be with someone. He wanted to have a wonderful life, as well. And he wanted to be shagged into oblivion again. John Watson had been a very good shag and he had said the same about him. So even if it was John, he …

Bloody hell, what was he thinking about? Angrily he stared out of the window. His fingers clutched the tumbler and his hand lightly shook.

But whom was he kidding? John Watson had been his first. He had no experiences with other doms. Well, there had been some kissing and groping but nothing more.

And Sherlock had given up his hopes of finding someone who wanted to be with him because he was weird, a hopeless case and mad as a hatter. That’s what people kept telling him and he had retreated almost completely.  
So when John appeared Sherlock at first wasn’t able to believe his ears when John muttered something like “amazing” or “brilliant”. And even later, after Sherlock had become John’s lover, sex-slave, servant, he always kept telling him that once in a while to keep him at least a bit happy. And somehow Sherlock always believed him.  
He sighed and calmed down. Finally, he admitted it to himself. He missed John. He really did.

Perhaps, if they talked to each other, Sherlock could make clear what he wanted, what he desired, and give him a second chance to be a good dom for him. Because some of the things John had done sexually had been just great.  
And now, just thinking about it, Sherlock became hard. He swallowed and carefully cupped his cock beneath his dressing-gown and pyjamas. He quietly moaned and rubbed his palm over it. He crunched his eyes shut and raggedly exhaled. The he topped up his drink and downed it in one go. And then he did it again.

He had indeed become mad if he wanted John Watson back in his life.

***

Mycroft and Greg decided to take their time-out as soon as possible. Mycroft wanted Greg to talk to Sherlock about it and Greg agreed even if he didn’t like it. He thought it wasn’t right to push him to the front and confront Sherlock with it, but he just did what his dom wanted to get the time-out.  
So the next morning suspiciously found Mycroft absent from the breakfast-table and just Greg and Sherlock devoured the spree Greg had created. He fidgeted with his scrambled eggs and the salt until Sherlock stopped him.  
“What do you want, Greg? What is it that Mycroft wants you to do?” Greg looked up and looked ashamed.  
“Well, actually the idea was mine but Mycroft doesn’t want to ask you. So it’s me asking the question.” Greg exhaled staring at his plate. Sherlock stared at him. Now he was curious.  
“So? What is it? It can’t be too bad, can it?” He said covering his roll with honey.  
“No, it’s not bad. Just to ask you makes me cringe. I am sorry.” Greg shook his head and sighed. Then he drank some coffee and only then he had collected enough strength.  
“Mycroft and I would like to take a time-out. But only for two days. Now I am asking you if it is OK with you, if we leave you alone for that very short period of time?” The words came out of Greg’s mouth very quickly and Sherlock really needed a few seconds more to understand what exactly Greg has asked him.  
“Why does this question make you cringe?” Sherlock asked.  
“Please don’t answer my question with another question, Sherlock.” Greg seriously said.  
“No, dear Greg, I don’t have a problem with your time-out.” Sherlock simply said and even shrugged.  
“Oh?” Greg said and bit into his lower lip.  
“Why were you worried about it?” Sherlock asked.  
“I just thought that we shouldn’t leave you alone. Not now when John Watson has reappeared. And not just because Mycroft and I … Well.” He cleared his throat and stared on his plate.  
“You don’t have to worry about me being here all by myself. I have plenty of things to do around here. And I am not really all by myself since there is security all over the place and a maid and a butler.”  
“Yes, I suppose you are right.” He sighed and looked back up.  
“Thank you, Sherlock.” And he smiled saying so. It made Sherlock smile right back while in the back of his brain a plan was forming how he would use the time being left alone.

***

Later that day Mycroft appeared by Sherlock’s side after Greg had told him that their time-out was fine. Sherlock looked up at him.  
“Brother-dearest, why didn’t you come to me yourself? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Mycroft sat down.  
“It was a bit stupid perhaps. I am sorry if I caused confusion. But it seemed so alien to me.” He poured a drink.  
“You don’t have to worry. I am safe here.” Sherlock said.  
“Yes, I know that.” Mycroft took a cigarette and Sherlock almost greedily looked at it.  
“Oh, I am sorry. Would you like one?” He politely offered and Sherlock at once snatched one.  
“God, yes!” Mycroft handed over his lighter and Sherlock inhaled closing his eyes. He sunk back down in his armchair and Mycroft could see how much he enjoyed the fag.  
“You know where the painkillers are, if you should suffer a headache.” Mycroft said.  
“You know, I am not supposed to go near the med-cabinet.” Sherlock said and his brother just snorted.  
“I trust you. You won’t do anything stupid, am I right?” He raised an imperious brow.  
“Yes, you are.” Sherlock lied. The brothers very much enjoyed their cigarette until Greg joined them.  
“Mycroft, you can’t give him cigarettes! It’s not good for him!” He chided.  
“I am absolutely fine, Dr Lestrade. Don’t you worry about me!” Sherlock grinned up at him looking all happy. Greg could see that and just shook his head. He looked around for a place to sit, but there were only two armchairs. The impulse to kneel beside his dom was there at once, but Mycroft reached out and pulled him on the armrest.  
“Don’t.” He just said holding Greg’s wrist. For a second Greg was tense, but then just sat on the armrest looking down at his dom. He still felt weird doing so, but Mycroft didn’t mind at all looking up at him. 

Sherlock saw the quiet exchange and was glad how his brother managed having Greg as a sub. He knew how damaged Greg was and that he needed special care. It seemed his brother managed quite well.  
“So, when do you two love-birds want to take your time-out?” He suddenly asked. Mycroft looked at Greg.  
“You decide, Gregory.” He said.  
“What? I don’t even know where we should go!” Greg replied.  
“You seemed to have ideas about it. Now you go and arrange it.” Mycroft grinned up at him.  
“But …” Greg tried again and Sherlock smirked.  
“No, you just do it. Whatever you chose, it’s fine with me.” Mycroft said insistently and Greg swallowed. He obviously wasn’t convinced it was right but he didn’t talk back anymore. Mycroft kept holding his hand while looking back at Sherlock.  
“What will you be doing while we are away?” He asked.  
“Probably I will just enjoy being by myself, without being disturbed. I will use the time to make plans for my future.” Sherlock seriously replied.  
“That really sounds good.” Greg said leaning against Mycroft.  
“It sure does. Let’s celebrate with a proper drink.” Mycroft said letting go of Greg.  
“I’ll get us champagne?” He looked between Mycroft and Sherlock. The brothers nodded. Greg left for the kitchen.  
Mycroft looked at Sherlock tilting his head.  
“You are up to something.” He just said.  
“I am just thoughtful. Trust me, I am not planning something weird. You may enjoy your time-out without worrying about me.” Sherlock answered and locked eyes with him.  
They kept staring at each other until Greg returned. Only then Mycroft let go. By then he was rather convinced that everything was fine. 

Sherlock felt the beads of sweat running down his spine but kept his appearance proper and relaxed. And he made it.

When Greg returned with the champagne and three glasses he just drank with them and relaxed a lot more. He spent the afternoon in bed sleeping until dinner was ready and Greg had to wake him.

***

Sherlock waited until Mycroft and Greg had left. Of course there were calls coming from Anthea to check on him and he answered them properly and nicely. He worked easily around security and Mycroft’s minions, as well.  
But he finally got hold on a mobile that wasn’t scanned or anything. He walked into his bath and turned on the water to shut out potential listeners. He had John Watson’s number he had called his brother from. And now he pinched in the numbers and waited for the dial-tone.   
He closed his eyes and swallowed. It rang three times until John answered the call.  
“Yes?” A fully relaxed and neutral tone, a normal voice. But what had Sherlock expected.  
“It’s me, Sherlock.” It must be enough for a start. Now he waited. He heard his breathing and it hitched.  
“God. You really did call me. I …” Sherlock heard him swallow and then clear his throat. It was something he knew about him. He was lost. It was rare that he was but now he was.  
“You made a deal with my brother. You wanted me to call in return for the things you gave to him. So here I am. Say what you want to say. I am listening.” Sherlock tried to be cold but it became harder by the second.  
“I did, didn’t I? Let me tell you, I am glad you called. No, that’s not quite right. I am happy to hear your voice.” John almost stuttered and Sherlock felt a bit better.  
“Say what you wanted to.” Sherlock urged.  
“At first I just wanted to take you back. When I attacked the house, I just wanted you beneath me and punish you for running away. But in the meantime I realised that I do miss you. Sherlock, I miss you. I …” Sherlock interrupted.  
“Sure you miss me. There is no slave anymore who does your chores or holds open his arse for you.” Sherlock wasn’t even shouting but his voice hurt John.  
“At first, yes. I admit that. But now I really miss you; I miss how you have been with me at the beginning, before I mistreated you so badly.” Now Sherlock was surprised. He sounded sincere.  
“What?” He asked.  
“I understand, you can hardly believe my words but it’s true.”  
“So how was I?” Sherlock finally asked being curious what John was coming up with.  
“You really loved me. The way you looked at me with such devotion and desire, it was something special. And I only hurt you. But I am not only missing you, Sherlock. I think I …” There he stopped and almost choked on his words. Sherlock used the opportunity to speak.  
“Yes, I did love you. I was beyond happy when you chose me, chose to be with me. Me! Sherlock Holmes, most feared sub in London, unloved, problem-loaded and too cheeky for a proper sub.” He snorted but continued.  
“You were my first, John Watson, and you gave me a wonderful first time. You gave me pleasure and showed me affection. And I never wanted to lose you again and you took advantage of that.”  
“Yes, I did. It was new for me, too. I pushed you and then pushed you more and you always did what I wanted, no matter what it was. It drove me to heights of pleasure I won’t ever forget.”  
“It almost killed me.” Sherlock said and John didn’t know what to say. There was a break in which both men only breathed.  
“I am sorry.” John finally got it out and Sherlock was at a loss for words. John just continued.  
“I know, it’s hard for you to believe but I gave it loads of long and good thoughts. I am sorry. I want you back. I miss you. I love you. Now, I have said it.” John raggedly exhaled and just waited.  
Sherlock was shocked to his bones.  
“I really don’t know what to say …” He only whispered the words.  
“Just think about it. Please, just do that for me.” John whispered, too.  
“I can do that. I surely can.” Sherlock cleared his throat.  
“I’ll be waiting for your answer. I promise not to do anything stupid if you deny me.” John said.  
“I’ll get back to you.” And Sherlock finished the call. His hand was sweaty and shaking. He carefully placed the mobile on the sink and sat on the tub’s edge. He closed his eyes and was glad he was alone at home.  
He let the news sink in. John Watson loved him. But could he believe him? Could he really do that?  
This revelation meant he had to meet him, had to see him soon. Should he do that while his brother and Greg were still enjoying their time together? Or should he better wait to be on the safe side? He wasn’t sure.  
He was able to sneak out of the house to meet John. That was no problem for him. But what if John was lying to him and just made him disappear?   
Sherlock chewed on his lips and finally sighed. He couldn’t come to any conclusion and stood. He put the mobile away and returned into his bath to shower. But then he decided to take a bath to relax. He also brought a drink and cigarettes. Damn the smoke-detectors. If he closed the door it should be fine.

He was rather pleased with himself and how he had handled the situation with John Watson. He had imagined, he would feel worse than he did now. Actually he felt very good, almost supreme. He did in fact hold some power over John, his former dom.  
It did give him a high of some sort. And he liked that. He would use that in the future.  
And right when he had that thought, he knew that he would go and meet him. They needed to speak face to face about what happened. Why they did what they did and just everything. And afterwards Sherlock could still shoot him.

He soaked for a long time. It was something John hadn’t allowed him to do and now he enjoyed this very much.  
He also smoked several cigarettes and had more than two drinks. When he left the tub he swayed for a second but then he just grinned. He should have eaten more.   
He donned only his pyjama bottoms and climbed into bed. He had a last look at his mobile and there was a text from Anthea.

_“I hope you enjoyed this. Please don’t exaggerate.”  
Anthea_

But also the mobile he had used to call John was signalling a message. Slowly he picked it up and focused.

_“Good night, my love.”  
JW_

Sherlock’s eyes watered and he carefully placed the mobile back on the nightstand. This was unexpected but was it real?  
He blew his nose and went into bed. He pulled up the blanket all the way to his chin to enjoy the warmth he had missed for such a long time. He sometimes still shivered when thinking about his long hours on the kitchen-tiles.

***

Anthea raised her brow, actually both of them, when she scanned over the mobiles being used at Mycroft’s home. Routinely she scanned every single mobile, no matter whom it belonged to. And now she had found one that hadn’t been used for quite a time and actually only was a replacement if another one was damaged.  
Now there was a call going out to Dr Watson. There also was a text coming in from Dr Watson. So Sherlock used his time alone for establishing contact. 

Anthea would tell her boss only after his return. Both the talk and the text were recorded and saved. She also asked herself, it John Watson really meant it. After having met him she had her doubts. It could be real.

But she also had seen Sherlock and she knew about his feelings, his rage and his wishes.

***

John had sent his text to Sherlock’s mobile risking to give his hiding-hole away. He assumed they were scanning the mobiles around Mycroft Holmes, but he had to do something after having talked to his former sub. He didn’t know though if he believed him. Hell, he wouldn’t even believe himself after what he had done to him.  
He sighed and glared at his display but there was no reply coming in. But he understood, he really did. Probably Sherlock wasn’t sure what to do or wasn’t convinced this was true and that he really meant it.  
The only thing John knew that if Sherlock really was coming back to him, he had to pamper him, love him and cherish him. And he would do it. Hell, he even would go down on his knees and beg for forgiveness if he wanted him to. No, not if he wanted him to. He would just do it. 

It surely would impress him, perhaps he would even like it. John swallowed. His inner dom didn’t like the idea at all but fuck him. It was his inner dom’s fault that he had behaved that wild, that he had hurt Sherlock so much. He had completely lost his mind.  
John wasn’t able to fall asleep. He had buried himself into his blankets and rolled on his side but it didn’t work. The images of Sherlock were parading through his mind. He sat up being all sweaty when the last one pierced his brain. An image of a man way too thin, malnourished, dead eyes, hurt body and just in pain. 

John sat up and threw the blankets off. He rubbed over his tired eyes. He needed fresh air. He wanted to leave this sodden place. Perhaps he could go back to Gary now that he was on a friendlier term with Mycroft Holmes? He gnawed on his lip and then decided against. He didn’t want to get Gary into trouble if he showed up again.  
And they would arrest Gary because he had given him shelter and other help.  
So who else could he turn to? He thought about it while packing his bag. He left the blankets and stuff for the homeless people who lived down here, too. He wouldn’t need them anymore. And even if, he had enough money to buy new ones.  
He took his back-pack and left the sodden sewers. He slowly walked through a park and finally reached the Thames. He sat on a bench and leaned back against the old wood. He closed his eyes and sighed.  
This was all fucking ridiculous. The shame was it was his fault alone. He could only blame himself for having reached his personal low. Now he almost hoped that Sherlock would take him back. He really wanted to go back to Baker Street. He would give him his bedroom back. He would give him his life, his freedom, back. And he would move upstairs into the second bedroom to give him space. 

His thoughts kept whirling through his head and he just kept sitting by the river.

***

Sherlock wasn’t able to get rid of his thoughts about cold and kitchen-tiles. He got up again and took another shower. He was restless now. He needed to get out of here.  
He carefully dressed into black denims and a black hoodie. He also found black sneakers and a jacket. Of course, he knew the alarm-code. Before leaving he studied the display for about half an hour to watch the security circle the premises. He saw the gap and just left.  
His first feeling was fear and he wanted to turn around and hide under his bed. But then he just breathed and kept walking. And the feeling was gone after he reached a crowded street. It was crowded even though it was still dark outside, London was alive as ever.   
Sherlock enjoyed the crowd, the people lingering in front of pubs and clubs. He hadn’t been outside alone like this, just for fun, for ages. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to take some money but he didn’t mind. It didn’t matter. He just moved through the crowds and found a pickpocket from whom he stole some money.

On his way to nowhere he found a place where fish and chips were sold and he bought some. He carried it over to the river and wanted to sit down. Slowly he made his way towards an empty bench.   
He saw the other person, man, sitting on a nearby bench but didn’t realise who it was until he passed by. He was fully concentrated on his food until the voice hit him.  
“Sherlock?” He almost dropped his food when he heard him say his name. He stopped and very slowly turned his head. It was John Watson sitting there and he didn’t move.  
Sherlock had no idea how to address him. He wasn’t his master, his dom, anymore, so who was he? Dr Watson? John?” Sherlock swallowed and made several steps back. John held out his hand.  
“Please, don’t run. Sit with me.” John asked him to stay. He had said _“Please_. What was happening?  
Sherlock was close to a panic-attack but managed to stay cool on the outside. Slowly he moved closer. John moved to the outer edge of the bench to give him space. Sherlock slowly sat down on the other end clinging to his food. He relaxed a bit when John just looked at him with his stance fully relaxed.   
He held out his food and offered it to John. John was very surprised but smiled.  
“Thank you, Sherlock.” He quietly said and took some chips.  
“What you texted before, it shocked me quite a bit.” Sherlock finally said. John swallowed.  
“I meant it. When you didn’t answer I thought maybe it was too much.” John replied.  
“It was a bit too much, yes. I still don’t understand you.” Sherlock ate some fish.  
“I thought about us, you. I thought about you and what I did to you. It wasn’t right. I hurt you so much.” John looked at his feet.  
“Yes, you did. Why do you think I would want to come back to you? Why should I forgive you? Why should I trust you?” Sherlock asked.  
“I thought about that, too. And I can’t answer these questions. I can only hope that someday you might forgive me and let me back into your life.” John cleared his throat and looked on his hands.  
Sherlock binned the oily paper and lost in thoughts licked his fingers clean. That move and sound made John look up and he stared at Sherlock fingers disappearing into his mouth. His cock twitched but he didn’t move. Suddenly Sherlock realised what he was doing and he quickly stopped it. He blushed and his cheekbones had a shade of red on them.   
John smiled and handed over a paper-napkin he had in his back-pack.  
“Thank you.” Sherlock said and took it. He wiped his hands clean and realised all of a sudden that he wasn’t scared of John anymore.   
John seemed to be human now. And he, Sherlock, held some power over him. He relaxed some more and looked at him. John sensed him looking and their eyes met. A small smile came up on John’s face.  
“I am glad you didn’t run away just now.” He said.  
“You don’t seem to be a threat anymore.” Sherlock replied and John shook his head.  
“No, I am not. I realised that I missed you, that I loved you. I still want you back but only to be with you the way you want.” John said and Sherlock could hardly believe his words but he kept listening.  
“Keep going. I will be listening.” He said and pulled his legs under. His head rested on his palm.  
“I am well aware of the fact that I mistreated you, hurt you and tormented you just for my pleasure. I felt like you would accept anything I’d do to you and I upped the ante again and again. It felt like being forced to do what I did. You never denied me, never said a word of protest. You seemed to accept your fate.” John shrugged looking a bit helpless.  
“I know I did all that. And you know why? Because I didn’t want to lose you. I never wanted to be alone again. Lonely. You gave me so much at the beginning. It made me love you. I never expected someone like you to be interested in me.” Sherlock quietly snorted.  
“What do you mean?” John asked.  
“Well, I am a freak. A sub with the worst reputation in London, maybe even Great Britain.” Sherlock murmured.  
“Nonsense!” John blurted it out and looked at him.  
“You are not a freak! You are an intelligent and very beautiful man I almost managed to destroy. I let you hunger and freeze. I …” He shook his head and lowered his eyes. The energy he had just had was gone.  
Sherlock just stared at him.  
“You never said so before …” John cast his eyes again.  
“I didn’t, did I? But it’s true. I should have said it every day, tell you what a wonderful man you are.”  
“If I wanted to leave right now, would you let me?” The question made John look up again.  
“Yes, I would. I am not holding you back. You can do what you want. You can hit me, kick me and even spit on me. I would let you. The only thing I am asking you is to think about it. Me. Coming back to me.” Sherlock slowly stood and nodded.  
“I can do that, John.” And it felt so good to just say his name.  
They looked at each other and Sherlock continued to speak.  
"But you see, you are only talking about me." He slowly shook his head looking at John.  
"Yes, of course I am talking about you. This is all about you, Sherlock." John was clueless and he didn't like the feeling.  
"You not only hurt me, you also killed others or badly hurt them. You had my brother's home attacked. You have destroyed my life."  
"Believe me, I do regret all this. What can I do, Sherlock? Tell me what and I will do it. So just please?" Sherlock in the meantime had finished his fish and chips. He wiped his hands clean on his denims and stood.  
"Come over here, John." Slowly he stepped up to the waterfront and John followed.  
"Do you see the moon, John?" Sherlock pointed up where a full moon shone behind some clouds and stars surrounded him.  
"Yes?" John answered.  
"Once I hoped we could have romantic walks by the Embankment or through a park. One I hoped we had a picknick by the sea. I longed for so many things but they never happened." Sherlock looked back into John's eyes.  
"You never said..." John quietly replied.  
"How could I with a too big ball-gag behind me teeth?" Sherlock suddenly hissed and pushed John against the metal bars. He took him by surprise and John stumbled. Sherlock used the moment of surprise and bent down grabbing his ankles. Getting back up he took his legs with him and threw him over the railing. The next second he took the hand-grenade he had picked up after the attack and hidden in his room and pulled the safety-pin off.   
He heard John's body fall into the Thames and two seconds later the loud explosion. He threw his body back but was getting wet anyway.  
He had a look over the railing and pulled a gun he had borrowed out of his brother's desk. He released the safety and pointed it into the dark. But there was nothing to shoot at. He sighed and carefully lowered it. He looked around and heard the first sirens approach. Quickly he picked up John's backpack and left the waterfront.

Finally being free.


End file.
